Pocket Change 2: A Game of Cards
by Sharon R
Summary: Sequel to 'Pocket Change': Suspense,angst,adventure,romance,humor! Luka and Carter are on a personal mission. When things happen, who will be questioned? And who joins them? Has Carter fallen? Has she stolen Luka's heart? Heart pumping finish!See also PC3
1. Chapter 1 Determinism and Free Will

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS**

Story by **Sharon R.** based on characters created by Warner Brothers Television for the television drama, ER. The author of this fiction has not received, nor ever will receive any monetary profit from this story. This is for personal enjoyment only. The author owns only her characters she created.

This is a sequel to POCKET CHANGE, and precurser to the last in the trilogy, POCKET CHANGE 3, due in early 2005 Although PC2 is a great read on its own, the reader would definitely benefit from reading the exciting original PC where some of these characters are introduced... especially one in particular!

Summary: Carter and Luka are enticed by Sean back to where this all began. This time they arrive good friends leaning on each other silently as a result of what they endured in PC1. In time, things happen, others arrive on the scene, suspicions arise and questions are asked leading each doctor to ultimately do something that goes completely against who they thought they were. (Note: this is not slash). It's a who-done-it, angst ridden, heart racing adventure. There may even be a surprise from ER's past!

**The historical, geographic and political facts in the story, for the most part, are derived from credible sources. Enjoy the suspense, mystery and adventure that ensues!**

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**_Chapter One_**

**Three Months Previous:**

Luka stopped at Carter's door just long enough to give him the e-mail he had received from Sean. "Thought you might like to see this. It's addressed to you too."

"Interesting," Carter noted as he digested the information. "He must have been reading our minds - certainly didn't waste any time." He tapped his fingers on the book he had been reading as he looked from the paper to Luka a few times. "I don't know if it can be done but I'd be willing to go and give it a try."

Luka stepped to the other side of the bed, turning off the annoying alarm on the IV pump. The nurses would change the fluids shortly. "Look, there's been a hiring freeze here. They aren't taking back anybody who was on leave."

"I know, Weaver told me. Seems we're unemployed."

They both paused waiting for the other to discuss what was on the paper, eventually evading it.

"How's the head?" Carter perked up. "Get the sutures out yet?"

"Yep. On Monday. Susan fed me to one of the residents down there. A 'Morris'."

"I take it it wasn't a pleasant experience." Carter smiled and stifled a laugh as Luka put his hand to the back of his head to survey the scar. Susan had been all too eager to unload on Carter when she visited, and the inept Morris was not a stranger to the conversations.

"It wasn't very nice of her. The poor guy trembled the whole time. I think he hurled next door in exam 3 when we were done." They were both laughing now as Luka finally pulled a chair up. "How about you?"

"Well, I think I'm going home tomorrow with a PICC line - couple more weeks of antibiotics. The pharmacy had to borrow some Vancomycin from Mercy. Go figure."

"Feel good though? You look good."

"Couldn't look any worse than I did ten days ago. You know, I really do feel good, physically. But just kind of…," Carter halted unable to find the right sentiment.

"… useless?" Luka finished it for him as Carter nodded in agreement. Luka leaned back in his chair, looking down at his hands folded in his lap. The silence in the room was not all uncomfortable. In fact, it was almost a placating language between the two, born out of survival. "Sean offered me a position, but it's contingent on the proposal."

Carter looked surprised as he sat up and faced his friend. "After everything you went through, you want to go back?"

"You mean everything **_we _**went through." Luka's half smile and shrug gave his feelings and impulsiveness away. "It's not like there's anything here for me."

"I know what you mean." Carter took a moment to read the e-mail again before putting the piece of paper on the tray table, smoothing it out with his hand. Looking directly at Luka with a confident, if not cocky smile, Carter gave him the go ahead. "Count me in. Let's do this together."

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**Life is like a game of cards. The hand that is dealt you represents determinism; the way you play it is free will.** -Jawaharlal Nehru 1889-1964, Indian Nationalist, Statesman  
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"You sure you're up to this?" Luka asked as he walked over to Carter. They were both sweating, more so from nerves than from heat.

"Yep," Carter quipped, leaning against the decorative post giving his back a rest, "I've been here before. More than I have cared to lately." Just being there made him uncomfortable enough to want to bolt.

An occasional passerby did a double take, recognizing one or both of the doctors. Some even made a point to cross their path just to gawk at the two who had caused so much commotion.

"How long do you think it will be?" Luka sighed.

"I don't know. They usually just take one person at a time. He could be in there all day."

"Maybe I should leave," Luka offered.

"_No_," Carter raised his hand, waiving the thought away, "I need you here today. Don't leave me stranded among all these … folks."

Time moved at a snail's pace as they were forced to wait outside where civilization seemed to disappear into the cracks. The two doctors whittled away the remainder of the hour staring at the images before them, occasionally smirking with each other in shared humor as they caught corners of conversations as the natives passed by. They dunked their hands in and out of their pockets, paced the perimeter, and did anything to keep from impulsively barging through the ornamentally carved colossal double doors.

Finally, a lovely young lady approached holding an ornate tray before her. "Excuse me Dr. Carter," she tenderly delivered, her accent lilting over her moist, dark lips. "I thought you and Dr. Kovac might like a cold beverage." Luka tilted his head down and away as he unsuccessfully hid a grin.

"Thank you, Colette," Carter answered, his cheeks barely registering a crimson blush.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" The young lady's eyes bugged out as Carter affectionately touched her elbow.

"No, thank you. It's very kind of you, but I think we're all set." Carter cleared his throat before drinking down the ice water.

"I think she's sweet on you," Luka quietly teased with a chuckle as Colette walked away, sneaking one last peak at Carter over her scantily clothed shoulder.

"Mmmm. You think? She's awfully young."

Luka finished his laugh, his eyes sparkling. "I didn't think age was a criterion for you."

At that moment the doors opened giving the two hesitation as the people inside hushed their voices in secrecy. Carter balled his fists to hide the perspiration and anxiety, then thought better of himself plunging them back deep into his pant's pockets. Pushing themselves away from the wall that had been holding their bored yet nerve racked bodies upright, they found themselves standing straight, holding their heads high in hopes that they would get the answer they were looking for.

A nod of the head was all the invitation they needed to step back into the inquisition chamber. The congregants spoke a language familiar to one but almost foreign to another as they secreted words among themselves before acknowledging the presence of Carter and Luka.

"Mr. Griffin has presented us with quite a challenge, don't you think, Dr. Carter?" The older, tall gentleman at the head of the opulent table stood, joining Luka and Carter above the rest of the clan.

"I prefer to think of it as an _opportunity_." Carter looked down and winked at Sean who had obviously worked his Irish magic on the mass. "You have … **_WE_**… have an opportunity here to do something other than invest in an invisible entity that proves valuable only on a ticker tape." Carter moved to the head of the table standing by the elder. "This is a win-win situation. We cannot lose in the world of public opinion. The dollars needed will not be dropped into a stranger's hand," Carter cupped his hands together presenting them to the group as he walked around the table, "but they will be delegated by you through me right where the need is greatest. Nothing frivolous. Everything for a greater purpose than to simply double the investment."

Carter paused, staring straight into the elder's eyes from the opposite end of the room. "My grandfather was a very wise, very shrewd businessman. He loved Winston Churchill." The man sneaked a short smile back at Carter. "We had a game when I was growing up. A game of matching quotations to their authors. He always started out the game with his favorite Churchill: _We make a living by what we get, but we make a **life **… by what we **give**."_

Luka pulled from his pocket pictures of his friends, giving himself a slight pause as he looked at each picture before presenting them to the assembly. "This is Toomay. She is a Congolese woman whose husband was murdered in the jungle just to make a point. He risked his life every day to get medical supplies and volunteers where they were needed most. He risked his life for us, and probably died _because _of us." Luka dropped Toomay's picture in front of one of the council members, continuing his slow stroll around the room.

"This is Paulette, her daughter. She wants to be a doctor when she grows up. Statistics show she has a better chance of being a victim of rape or dying in childbirth before the age of twenty." Paulette's picture landed in front of two women.

"This is Tolo, Paulette's sister. She wants to be a teacher. Unfortunately, the rebels keep burning the schools to the ground. The only schools left in the rural areas are in refugee camps, if you can find one." An old man picked up the picture of Tolo, transfixed on her dark shining eyes.

"Joseph is Toomay's only son, named after his father. He carries that name with distinction and pride. And rightly so. Like many of our own sons, he wants to be a famous football player… or soccer, as we know it. But statistics tell us that he is much more likely to die of AIDS, malaria, hemorrhagic fever…," Luka moved his eyes from one seated group member to the next succinctly with each mention of disease, defining the urgency of his pleas with his haunting eye contact, "… TB, Ebola, cholera or malnutrition long before that could become a reality."

The silence, as the collection of faces in the room focused on the pictures, was deafening. The elder threw open a window either in disgust of the rising temps or as a way to escape the reality set before him.

"And this," Carter stepped in producing a slightly larger picture in a frame, "is Mbuto." Instead of passing the photograph down the line of dignified men of stature and the few women among them, Carter hung on to it, staring lovingly into the eyes of the child. "In Africa… in the Congo… family is revered. Families **_do not _**separate. They value each member, old and young." Carter's voice cracked as he purposely walked to the head of the table again and delivered the picture into the hands of the older man. "Mbuto was put into **our **hands by his father - a rebel himself - in hopes that we would get him to safety sacrificing his ever having contact with him again. Mbuto barely escaped capture by rebels who force children into battle because they take orders. Because their culture has raised them to respect their elders and do what they are told. They use that high moral standard to kill their own children in the name of war."

Carter found strength as he held his head high. "Ten thousand children's fate have already been decided in this manner in the Congo. They are walking the streets with guns slung over their shoulders, hauling grenade launchers in red wagons behind them, playing with dolls and toys they find among the ruined buildings. Then, they kill. It's kill or be killed for them. Rules to a game they cannot afford to lose, for which the winner is rewarded with life for another day. Refugee camps are few and far between, many simply holding tanks for the future child martyrs whose own parents have perished from disease, war, neglect. The UN has given up on them, their own resources stretched, their attention diverted elsewhere. **WE **have this opportunity to make a difference. To save lives. Don't say no to the Mbutos, the Toomays, Paulettes, Tolos and Josephs."

A woman who had chosen not to rest her decision solely on the pictures, passed them by to her fellow congregants without a gaze, spoke up and addressed Luka as his eyes fell on hers. "There are refugee camps all over the world. Millions, if not billions, of dollars are spent every year on them. Why not divert those funds?"

"That's a fair question," Luka graciously answered. "A few years back I spent a considerable amount of time in refugee camps in Kosovo and Macedonia. Let me ask you, how much money do you spend on yourself on average per day for food, clothing, shelter, hygiene and medical care? Fifty dollars? One hundred dollars?" Luka scanned the eyes not surprised that his question remained unanswered. "More? In those eastern European camps, one dollar and twenty-three cents a day was spent on each person. The largest camp I worked at held 33,000 people. There was one doctor for every 700 refugees. Food is relatively plentiful with the European communities donating fresh fruit, chicken pate, foil-wrapped cheeses, milk and even fruit tarts. Water is abundant in most of the camps in the Balkans; some even have modern sewage systems. There is shelter for all."

Luka was on a roll and looked to Sean and Carter for help. They, on the other hand were just as sucked in by his description of his experience as the group sitting down was. "One dollar and twenty-three cents a day. Doesn't sound like much, does it? In Africa, camps swell to an amazing 500,000 people. There is usually one doctor for every 100,000 people and refugees are given basic grains such as sorghum or wheat and sent off to make whatever food they can from those ingredients IF they have access to fire and clean water. Most do not have adequate shelter and upwards of 6,000 people a day die from preventable disease."

Knowing that these people understood numbers better than words, he decided to cut to the chase. "In Kosovo, they asked the world's countries and agencies for almost one hundred million dollars in aid. They received 77 percent of that amount. A similar request by African officials for camps housing many, many more refugees than in Europe netted only 22 percent. Less than 1 percent in Liberia." Luka collected the pictures that had made the rounds and dropped them face up in the center of the table. "A dollar and twenty three cents per person, per day. Doesn't sound like a lot. But that's Kosovo. In Africa, they are lucky if they spend _eleven cents … per person… per day_."

The old clock on the wall ticking was the only sound heard as the leader finally stood. "And what about _your _lives?" he quizzed them, "why should you put your lives in the middle of that again?"

"You're making this personal," Carter quietly answered. "We have been in the middle of that war. We have witnessed death, we have cheated death ourselves. We lived a short life of torture in a place where humanity is **not **an element of survival."

Carter turned away from the man and addressed the group as a whole. "Our friend, Joseph, before his murder shared with us something that has become very dear to my spirit. He said, '_I measure my personal credibility by what I have **not** done, instead of what I have accomplished.'"_

Standing next to Luka, behind a seated Sean, Carter finished with the one-two punch. "Well, there is too much that I have **_not _**done. And to know what **_can _**be accomplished there and then turn my back on it would deny me and my family credibility. We have an opportunity to bring humanity back to a small area of the world. Don't deny us that."

With that, the doors were opened once more and the two doctors and Sean stepped outside again, where they stood, hands in pockets, staring at the walls, willing themselves not to hold their breath. It wasn't long before they heard the chatter of the council members and shuffling of feet as the mass exodus of faces streamed by them from the chamber.

"Well, John," the older gentleman shook Carter's hand, "I don't know why I would want to put you in danger again, but you will get the funding. You have a way with words."

"Thank you, Dad," Carter exhaled with relief, "I've never felt comfortable in front of the Foundation's Board of Directors."

"Don't thank me. Thank Mr. Griffin and Dr. Kovac… and yourself."

"Well Mr. Carter," Sean also put his hand out giving the elder Carter a hearty handshake, "it's not the Congo. Uganda is a beautiful country guided on a platform of democratic rule. The northern region where we'll be in Pakwach has had its troubles but it is in the world's eyes lately with some limited relief work and medical studies going on there. Your refugee camp will be the first for the displaced Congolese. You should be proud."

The senior Carter's strict business demeanor was briefly interrupted as he sneaked a smile at his son. "Oh, I am proud."

"Well," Sean broke the mood, "I have a flight to catch later tonight. Anybody for dinner and a drink?"

"You like barbecue?" Luka had a hankering for ribs. "We can hit Carsons."

"They have beer?" Sean had his priorities set!

"Tell you what," Carter interjected, "there is a load of paperwork we have to get done here with the Foundation as well as with the _Alliance_ before we can even begin to get started in Pakwach. But…" Carter waited until his father and a few of the other board members were out of earshot, "… I think it can wait a couple hours. Lets try to catch a ride downtown before the rush hour crowd takes all the good seats."


	2. Chapter 2 Welcome to Uganda

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**_Chapter Two  
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Somehow after all the years of living in Chicago, Carter thought he would have been used to the discomfort of public transportation. And Luka had certainly had his share of it on more than one continent. But that day as they shared a tight space on the bus with Sean, the aroma of fumes and unavoidable body odor of their fellow commuters made them appreciate the slower paced lives they had led in the past: Luka's Viper, Carter's Jeep and Sean's bicycle as it traipsed through the tight alleyways and green pastures of Ireland. With money being tight all over and mass transit certainly not a priority, it wasn't surprising to hear the bus gears grind, the windows and door squeak with frustration and the suspension lacking altogether.

There was not a seat left on the bus as they joined the others in the aisle holding onto the luggage racks above to keep from falling over each other. Sean was the most unfortunate of the three as his relative vertical deficiency landed his nose in any of three or four armpits circling around his head like buzzards.

The heat was absolutely oppressive, the breeze making its way through the windows that had been wrestled open not giving much relief at all. As the bus was jarred in every possible direction Luka reached his free, long arm upwards to gain additional stability only to have the antiquated metal rooftop scorch his palm.

Finally, their stop was announced and like horses out of the gate, the passengers disembarked with the bravado of thoroughbreds on race day. An excited Sean led the way as Carter and Luka followed him down the cluttered, noisy street bursting with mom and pop shops and professional offices that were almost indistinguishable with their homemade signs and caged storefront windows.

"Need a new icebox?" Sean chuckled as they passed by what appeared to be a very popular appliance shop, though none of the refrigerators or stoves were clearly new, the sidewalk serving as storage. "Kampala Street is THE place to shop. Everything you need is here," Sean explained. Finally, they made it to a small office building where the _Alliance de Medecines Internationale _had set up shop after conditions had deteriorated in the Congo.

"I know it has been a long trip for you, but we still have one more leg to go. And, I have a very special surprise for you." Sean unlocked the interior office and the trio stepped inside. Luka turned on the old desktop fan only to find it non-functional. "I've spent the last month getting the new camp ready in Pakwach with volunteers. President Museveni has even given us a limited number of soldiers to use at our discretion. He says it is a courtesy, but it's just as much to protect his world image."

"Is there reason for him to be worried about his image?" Carter wondered aloud.

"Well," Sean cleared his throat, handing each doctor a lukewarm bottle of Coke, "the only way to get to the other side of the country by land is on the Karuma/Pakwach Road. It's a 400 kilometer drive, long in and of itself, but also dangerous. As much as Uganda is trying to make the world think it has advanced itself into modern times, the north still has to contend with the LRA - The Lords Resistance Army."

"Rebels?" Luka asked.

"Aye, sorry, more rebels. Although the LRA is fighting a losing battle, they still dominate media attention in those parts, and sometimes that's what counts to them. When they haven't been in the news for a while, they like to brush up on their pillaging and killing skills." Sean paused as he noticed the two doctors found no humor in this offbeat, yet all too true remark. "At least, Dr. Carter, you will be relieved to know that the official language is English."

"So this is the capital of Uganda?" Carter peered out of the window gazing at the bustle of shoppers making their way to the assorted shops and kiosks.

"Mmm. Well, this is just part of it. Uganda is a beautiful country and," Sean stepped up beside Carter and pointed at several white minivans and black SUV's as they abruptly stopped in front of the building, "I believe that you will appreciate it better once you get a bird's eye view."

Almost simultaneously, the doors to most of the vehicles opened as soldiers and businessmen poured out making their way to Sean's front door.

"Is this our surprise?" Luka questioned him.

Sean chuckled, obviously not surprised by the arrival of their guests. "No, not yet. Not mine, at least. I believe this would be the President's entourage."

Most of the group stayed outside on the street as several official looking politicians came through the door.

"Welcome to Uganda," the apparent leader of the pack announced with a very obvious African accent as he put his hand out to shake the foreigners' hands, "my name is Prof. Gilbert Bukenya and I am the Vice President of Uganda."

After introductions, the Vice President hurriedly gave instructions to his aids to load the luggage the three men had with them into a van, then rushed them into one of the vehicles, always with a broad smile on his face. "We are excited that you have come to our country to help us with the burden of the displaced Congolese. You see we have our hands full with refugees from all around us and our own problem people give us the most trouble with the Sudanese. So your attention in Pakwach is much appreciated."

Before the three could get a word out, the procession of vehicles took off at great speed and purpose.

"Excuse me, Professor, but where are you taking us?" Luka felt uncomfortable as he found himself in a situation he did not relish: taken by armed strangers on a ride in a relatively foreign country where rebels tend to kidnap foreign tourists.

"It's okay, Luka," Sean assured him, "this is a gift from the president. You will be flown to Pakwach on board President Museveni's private military helicopter and shown some of the natural wonders of the country."

"The president wishes to extend his thanks to you and hopes that you will take back word of the sites to your people." The vice president, sitting in the front of the vehicle was turned around, still smiling from ear to ear. "Unfortunately he is tied up and won't be able to join us."

As Carter mumbled to himself with a half smile, Luka inched closer, his head down to hear him.

"Hmm?"

"Tied up."

As the two shared their inside joke the caravan came to a halt inside a military base outside of Kampala. There in front of them were three very large, very expensive and very sophisticated military helicopters. Guided to the door of the largest of the three - on a red carpet, no less - they were greeted by several soldiers standing guard, all business and stoic save one whose broad smile matched that of the Vice President's.

Their journey took them first west where the choppers dipped out of the clouds almost frighteningly close to the tree line of the Queen Elizabeth National Park. As the Professor pointed at a large herd of elephants congregating in the sun, the tourists' intrusion from the air encouraged the mammals extraordinaire to move on, the few babies among them gingerly cared for by the trunks of the cows for fear of straying. "After our civil war, the president made it a priority to reestablish our country's commitment to our national parks," the vice president told them over the intercom system of the helicopter. "The elephant population had dwindled to almost extinction. Now we are again seeing them multiply and flourish." Further on over a set of trees, a small lake harbored a family of hippos, a massive flock of flamingos and a lone lion sunning on a rock.

The ascent back into the clouds lasted only as long as it took for them to pass over the great Rwenzori Mountains, the white peaks melting into the mist that encapsulated them. Luka and Carter only half heard their official tour guide talking about the permanent glaciers at the top and lush forestation at the bottom providing magnificent hiking for enthusiasts. The doctors were obviously enjoying their tour as they stared out the windows in awe.

As they headed north they were treated to the Kibale National Park, a rainforest chocked full of wildlife including 12 species of primate. "You let me know when you can get some time away and I will arrange a guided forest walk for you," the vice president told them. "They will take you deep into the rainforest where you will find yourself right among the chimpanzees and red colobus monkeys."

The two doctors looked at each other in astonishment as they were sure that they shared the same thought: this is not the Africa they fled from a couple of months ago!

As they flew the entire length of Lake Albert north to their final destination, they had one last surprise: Murchison Falls National Park. The choppers hovered over the pinnacle of the Falls where the Nile River plunges 40 meters over the rocks through a narrow crevice. It was awe inspiring to witness this wonder as only flying creatures are able to.

Their presidential tour over, they finally descended into what slowly became recognizable to them: the former airfield now turned refugee camp. Only last time they were there it was simply a rest point between hops off the continent after their month of captivity. Luka remembered it well, but for Carter the view upon landing was nothing more than an inkling of familiarity.

Handshakes all around, luggage and passengers disembarked, and the choppers were once again headed southeast to Kampala. As the "birds" rose into the skies, Sean, Luka and Carter turned their backs on them, crouching just a bit to take on the force of the whirling air behind them. Within moments, they were alone with only each other and the nature that was to become their home. The quiet of the expansive field surrounded by trees in the distance was a stark contrast to the roar of the helicopters and busy city of Kampala. The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder looking at what lay before them, the occasional howling wind pushing at their backs. With their limited luggage thrust over their shoulders, they headed towards the old hanger.

"Wait," Luka stopped abruptly, as his foot lodged under a large duffel bag. "Who forgot a bag?"

With none of the three claiming the baggage on the ground before them, they looked around and saw just one more face. Carter dropped his bags as the smiling soldier stirred memories of his last visit there and suddenly thrust the vague inkling into overdrive. The smell, the ambiance of where he was, the smiling face, was suddenly all too familiar.


	3. Chapter 3 Man's Future is Hidden

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**_Chapter Three  
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"_**The road of life can only reveal itself as it is traveled; each turn in the road reveals a surprise. Man's future is hidden."** -Source Unknown  
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With none of the three claiming the baggage on the ground before them, they looked around and saw just one more face. Carter dropped his bags as the smiling soldier stirred memories of his last visit there and thrust the vague inkling into overdrive. The smell, the ambiance of where he was, the smiling face, was suddenly all too familiar. Walking up to the soldier, Carter tilted his head as he strained to grasp the familiarity in front of him.

"I know you, don't I?" Carter reached out and shook the smiling man's hand.

"Yes. You do not remember?"

Carter had to catch up to the man's African accent, furrowed his brow and then quickly nodded. "Yes… you were with us in Bunia. Stayed with us until we got to Kampala."

"Othiamba, right?" Luka also remembered as he too shook the man's hand.

"Yes sir." Othiamba was almost overly enthusiastic with his handshakes as he returned again to shake Carter's hand, then again to Luka and finally to Sean. "Yes sir. I have been assigned to you. I will help wherever I am needed."

Carter was stumped by Othiamba's sudden presence. "Assigned? Like, as in watching us?"

"No, John," Sean quietly interjected, "it's a courtesy. Technically you are guests of the government. Othiamba is probably here on an honor assignment. It's SOP."

"SOP?" Luka wrinkled his nose and squinted as the wind blew in a sheet of dust.

"Standard operating procedure," Carter replied and grinned. "Sean's getting all technical on us. Well," Carter looked over at Sean, "this **_is _**a nice surprise. It's good to find old friends." Carter was trying hard to start off on the right foot.

"Yes, very nice….," Sean stalled, "… but not _my _surprise."

"You look well, Dr. Carter. And you too, Dr. Luka." Othiamba marveled at the complete change in appearance the doctors had managed. From beaten up, malnourished seriously ill captives, to well dressed healthy westerners. This made Carter and Luka check each other for just a moment remembering what horrid shape they were in last time Othiamba saw them.

"Yep," Luka grinned as he hauled his luggage away from the makeshift landing zone, "finally got Dr. Carter to wear some decent looking clothes."

As they got closer to the large former hanger, the people who had been working to get the camp up and running started appearing, hauling supplies, setting up care stations with rations, clothing and temporary shelter material. A few auxiliary buildings on the other side of the hanger, initially out of view of the men, were either newly built or under construction. The workers greeted Sean with 'hello' and 'good afternoon', obviously having become familiar with him over the last month.

"Who are all these people?" Luka asked as they entered the hanger.

"Well, some are volunteers from Pakwach - the village a few miles up the road. Some are from a church mission that helps out all over the African continent." He pointed to a group of young adults sitting on the floor of a newly framed building playing cards. "A group of university students there." They all couldn't help looking at the African women who were cooking over an open fire in the distance, children carrying water in old jugs. "Others are refugees."

Sean stopped just inside the door to let the doctors take in the changes the hanger had experienced since their last stopover. "And of course we have people from the Alliance, but most will be getting here when the medical clinic is up and running. That's where you come in, Luka. As John will be overseeing the whole of the camp as it relates to his Foundation's funding, you and I will be in charge of putting the clinic together. Then as we get settled John will help staff it as well… no use wasting a good, free doctor."

The hanger had been split up into three areas. Just inside the large doors an intake area was in place to process the new refugees. Beyond that, temporary walls had been erected to separate what would be clinic areas from a few staff sleeping quarters. For now, it was a big empty shell.

"Well," Sean sighed as he dropped his bags on a cot off to the side, "trucks will be barreling in here any time with supplies. We've got a lot of work to do." Sean motioned to the back where the office was. The same office they had settled their sore bones into briefly on their previous trip. "The office back there has been set up for us. There's not much in it. No phones yet and cell phone coverage is very sporadic. But it will serve the three of us well enough as a headquarters."

The sun was streaming in through the large open-air windows through to the back of the hanger making it hard to see into the office. But something caught Carter's eye.

"Who's that in there?"

Sean and Luka attempted to shade their eyes with their hands but could only see the shadow of a person sitting in the lone chair, feet propped up on the desk.

"Don't know," Sean puzzled, "nobody should be in there that I know of."

The three men hiked back to the office, their feet echoing in the empty chamber of cement and steel. Finally close enough to make out the figure, his back was to them, his hands behind his head as he reclined back taking in the view across the old tarmac through the broken window.

Without turning around, without even so much as flinching, his smooth, deep American voice carried directly through the doorway aimed for the doctors.

"Well, if it isn't King Tut and his sidekick Matija Gubec."

Luka and Carter stole looks at each other as their mouths opened then closed quickly, initially hesitant to speak to the man who they had so masterfully played previously.

"Gee… **_Bob_**… what a …," Luka halted, then glanced disappointedly at Sean, "… a surprise?"

Sean simply shrugged his shoulders obviously out of the loop, and shook his head.

"King Tut?" Carter mused.

The man put his feet down and swung around to face the men. "I see you brought your riches back to Africa. Just please tell me you left your curse in Chicago."

"Nice surprise, Sean," Carter sarcastically threw out.

"Don't look at me… I don't know this man."

"I guess introductions are in order." Bob stood and with a cocky, sarcastic manner, limply put his hand out to Sean. "Mr. Griffin, it's nice to meet you, I'm Bob."

In unison, Carter and Luka mocked him back. "Hi Bob."

Sean stepped up to Bob and returned the handshake firmly, in diplomatic mode. "Nice to meet you… I guess… Bob, ah, what is your last name?"

"Yeah… okay," Bob pulled back, disinterested in the Irishman, and walked through the three men and out the office door. "Look doctors, you're stuck with me for a while. I don't want to be here. You don't want me here." He lit a cigarette and took a long drag savoring the buzz. "But let's make the best of it… and all that." Turning his back on them, he walked away mumbling. "Shit. I'm in a bad dream. A Salvation Army summer camp for alter boy rejects."

Luka and Carter leaned back against the desk and watched as Bob exited the hanger.

"Hello," Sean yelled after him, "if you are a volunteer, I truly don't recall which organization you are with. **_Excuse me_**."

"No." Carter popped a stick of gum in his mouth non-challantly, offering another to Luka who slowly and seemingly lackadaisically unwrapped it and licked it first before giving it a chew. Neither one was all too concerned about the mystery man who cracked the verbal whip and snaked out of the hanger… _Sean's hanger_… as though he owned the airline. "His organization isn't on your list, Sean."

"Pardon me?"

The two doctors righted themselves and left to start their day of work setting up the camp. Luka gave Sean a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Did we ever tell you about Bob?"

"Bob - at least we _think _that's his name - was our tour guide out of Bunia." Carter added. "He arranged for our flights in and out of Uganda. Was supposed to stick with us all the way to Germany, 'til we ditched him in Kampala."

"I don't suppose he's none too happy with us right now," Luka smiled and laughed with Carter. "You can ask him anything you want, Sean, but he'll evade most of it. Probably CIA."

"Mata Gooby who?" Carter quizzed Luka.

"Matija Gubec. Leader of the historic Croatian peasant uprising of 1573."

"Oh," Carter feigned his awe, "you should be impressed."

"I am. I'm impressed he knows who Gubec _is_."

As the two doctors left the hanger they looked back to see Sean still in a state of deep confusion. Putting two and two together was suddenly an algebraic formula he couldn't do in his head. "Bob _who?_"

"Come on Sean," Luka waved him on, "we'll tell you all about it."

Carter draped his arm around Sean as they walked out to meet a parade of trucks entering the camp. "You see, it all has to do with a lot of initials. CIA, FBI, DOD, DOS, NFC."

Sean mentally defined those terms in his head but faltered on the last one. "NFC?"

"Yep, NFC." Carter stopped to put his sunglasses on that had been dangling around his neck, taking in the work that was ahead of him in the distance. "No Fucking Clue."

Quite blankly, Luka added, "That's SOP."

As the day wore on, Luka and Carter lost each other in the hectic barrage of off loading of supplies and stockpiling them in the appropriate places. Luka redesigned the hanger area to his own clinic specifications and set up what meager materials had arrived, but he soon found himself with nothing but a basic first aid station. No lab equipment, few meds and certainly no trauma or OR supplies. When he questioned Sean about the arrival of the remainder of the already procured supplies, the answer he got was a bit daunting.

"Everything you need is here in Uganda. It will get here."

"What are we waiting for?" Luka asked, puzzled.

"Darkness."

Sean was so matter-of-fact about his reply that it gave Luka a raised eyebrow.

"Don't worry. Our first shipment comes tonight on a military helicopter. You have to understand, Luka, that trade on the black market is sometimes more valuable than hard currency. The rebels here in northern Uganda are much more discreet than in the jungles of the Congo. They are all over the roads blending in with the general population and any hint of the movement of treasured medical supplies and we'd be out of everything we spent the last few months working so hard for. Be patient."

Carter set to work getting to know the volunteers and charter members of the refugee camp. They were hard workers and grateful refugees willing to do whatever work was necessary even with babies strapped to the moms' chests and backs. The heat was miserable as it bounced off the broken pavement of the abandoned airfield and back at the workers. With tenuous muscles already strained, Carter was pushing it but had become adept at knowing his limits. Behind him every step of the way was Othiamba hovering over him making sure that his needs and requests were addressed. At first grating, Carter eventually became too engrossed in his work to notice.

The hard work felt good to both doctors who had spent the last few months recuperating in Chicago then stuck behind desks putting together the Pakwach camp by phone and computer. It was invigorating to see the results of their hard work and desire to do something worthwhile, their new community of friends just as eager. With the exception of Bob who slinked around the camp, occasionally appearing to chat with the locals, nobody was below the work needed to be done, no matter what filth, stench or dubious sweat was generated because of it.

The exhaustion and heat of the night overtook them as they joined a few other volunteers on the floor of what would eventually be their "mess hall". Their forgotten hunger suddenly attacked with a vengeance and the two searched for a meal. Since the electrician had not yet arrived to install the last of the generators, the majority of the food was still sitting in a refrigeration warehouse on the other side of the country. If the bland prepackaged rations they were given by the Red Crescent, sans eating utensils, were any indication of the dining fare they were to expect in this building phase, the doctors knew that they would definitely have to make their minds and stomach go elsewhere to quell the hunger pains.

With his stomach still squawking, and the palatability of his dinner less inviting than a rabid dog, Carter looked over at Othiamba who obviously was immensely enjoying the contents of the tin. He noticed that Luka, too, was watching Othiamba and the other refugees among them digging in to their meal, appreciating every bite.

"Well, it beats chopped sardines and rice on a banana leaf," Carter whispered, privately acknowledging their meager rations they were occasionally allowed as Jules' captives in the Congo. Luka smiled back and gave him a nod of encouragement.

They were suddenly overtaken by the stealth entrance of a chopper overhead coming in fast and low, not turning on lights until just before touching down. From nowhere another chopper landed behind it spilling out several heavily armed soldiers.

"That's our cue," Sean yelled out to the workers as he ran towards the open field.

Within an hour all of the supplies were unloaded and, accompanied by heavily armed guards, stocked in the hanger, the more valuable of supplies making it to a large safe hidden in the office - a safe that did not lock.

With the clinic materials on the ground and the soldiers back in the air, Carter was suddenly uneasy. "Uh, Sean, now what do we do? I understand that the transport of the supplies was dangerous, but because they are here that doesn't make them any less of a target for the rebels."

"Well, actually it does," Sean explained. "Remember, there are Ugandan soldiers stationed here around the perimeter. And the LRA is trying to clean up their act, at least politically. They know that raiding a refugee camp and stealing medical supplies would net them zero publicity."

"But they still will kidnap children from these camps to staff their army, and women for use as sex slaves." Othiamba wasn't the silent sidekick after all. "Maybe not so much here, but they do further up north."

As they opened one package after another, Luka suddenly came up short in his mental inventory. "Still not many medicines?" he asked Sean.

"No. We are having a problem getting approval for some of the supplies you ordered. Controlled substances are not normally stocked outside of a secure hospital setting. That's a whole different animal. Not only is that black market material, but there is a rampant drug abuse problem in the cities. Be patient."

"Again with the 'be patient' bit," Luka humored back.

Stealing away one more break at the end of the long night, Luka laid down on the hard planks of the floor in the mess hall, wanting nothing more than for the unconscious state of sleep to erase the heat, sweat and associated bugs that were beginning to catch a ride on his filthy body. "Somebody just throw the mosquito netting over me right here. I don't even think I have the energy to make it to a bed."

Carter joined him, his back stiffening. "Ohhhhh… ," he rubbed his eyes and willed his body to get upright just one more time so he could make a pit stop at the latrine. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"

"Doubting yourself?" Luka mindlessly stared at the ceiling. "Because if you aren't, I am. This body suddenly feels a lot older than it is."

"Think if we don't move, don't make a sound, everyone will just leave us alone?"

"Frankly, I don't think I can move without making a sound." Luka attempted to sit up, barely getting his head off the floor. "Arrrrgh…. _sranje!_"

Carter's muted laugh only made him hold his strained gut in. "Ditto that."

"One more package doctors," Sean called enthusiastically into the building. "Come on, there's work to be done."

"No," Carter whined with exhausted humor, "we're off the clock. Shift's over."

"We don't want no stinkin' overtime, boss." Luka laughed with Carter as they remained on the floor, arms outstretched, every sore vertebrae in their spine withstanding the contact with the wooden boards for simple lack of energy.

"**Hey**," Sean kicked the exposed sole of Luka's shoe raising his Croatian ire, "**you're not done until I say you're done**."

Groans emitted from the mess hall in stereo as their blistered, bug bitten, heat ravaged bodies became vertical, but only enough to sit upright and give Sean a piece of their mind. Their anger was quickly doused when they saw that last package of the evening. Both doctors had to focus their eyes to get a better look at what was in front of them and decided that this endeavor wasn't going to be so bad after all!


	4. Chapter 4 Counting One's Beans

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**_Chapter Four_**

"One more package doctors," Sean called into the building. "Come on, there's work to be done."

The last package of the evening was in front of Sean. Both doctors had to rub their eyes to get a better look at what was in front of them and decided that this endeavor wasn't going to be so bad after all! It wasn't a package wrapped in brown paper, but a boy. _Mbuto_. A big beautiful smile erupted on his face as he ran for the doctors and plowed them down onto their backs again, aching bodies and all. Luka lifted the boy above him getting a good look at the face of the child that had given them brief purpose and hope at their lowest moment. Mbuto's giggles were fresh and new giving both men reason to hoot and holler themselves.

"Where have you been, little man?" Carter asked, wrapping his arms around the boy as he sank into the larger man's lap.

"With me... and the children."

There next to Sean was Toomay - her three children behind her, obviously working hard to hold in their own giddy laughs as the grand surprise was revealed.

Luka rose to his feet and wasted no time getting to the group, putting his arms around his murdered friend's wife.

"I managed to get Toomay and all of the children over the border disguised as Alliance employees," Sean said. "An Irishman is born feeling guilty and makes a bad liar, so I made good on my fib and hired Toomay to oversee the meals for the workers. Until now they've been staying with a family in Pakwach Village."

"And now I have a brother," young Joseph proudly announced as he scooted out of Luka's embrace, and fell on the floor next to Carter and Mbuto, the two boys covering their mouths to hide the playful laughter.

"_This _is the surprise, right?" Carter asked Sean. "I mean, I can't think of a better one."

Paulette and Tolo held hands as they stood bashfully at their mother's side enjoying the sight of the two boys roughhousing with Luka and Carter. Neither one their father, but a substitution that was comforting nonetheless.

Luka, Carter and Sean each had small but private bedrooms in the hanger to sleep in, while Toomay, the children and Othiamba slept in staff quarters attached to the mess hall. Where Bob disappeared to was a mystery and, frankly, no one cared. By morning time Paulette had made a place for herself among the few nurses that had arrived and Tolo started a little school of her own for the children with the help of one of the missionary mothers.

Workers pounded away in the mess hall building tables and benches forcing Luka to sit outside on the steps to eat his breakfast rations. As Joseph saw his sisters excitedly run off to start their assignments, he suddenly felt left out.

"What will be my job?" he quizzed Luka with his big dark eyes and young accent.

"Joseph, you and Mbuto have a _very _important job, and that is to be kids." They were not impressed with their assignments and their faces fell. "We need you to help the children here learn how to be kids again. Teach them that they don't have to be scared here. That they need to play and have fun."

At just that moment, Carter appeared and brought out two brand new soccer balls from behind his back. "If you two go over to where the helicopters land, you'll see that Luka and I outlined a couple of fields for you." The boys' eyes widened at that announcement. "Go on. We'll be there later." With that, the boys were gone, running out of sight headed for what would be their sanctuary.

Through that first week Luka began seeing patients as they slowly appeared from the jungle. With just a couple of nurses, his hands were full, leaving Carter to entirely see to the completion of the construction and organization of the camp. Bob appeared sporadically and lingered in the distance, always watching, occasionally talking with locals. Finally Carter had had enough of being a spectator sport for the lurker and confronted Bob while he was stationary for a rare moment.

"Look, frankly, you give me the creeps. Either find something productive to do or leave." Carter turned to walk away but was stopped by Bob's voice.

"You want to really know why I'm here? You think this stint is going to spiff up my resume and earn me some ataboys back in Washington?"

"Don't care, Bob. Bag up your hot air and get out."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Choir Boy. You see your little quip on your way out last time about your family's association with GWB wasn't all shtick, was it?"

With that revelation, Carter stopped in his tracks, hands on his hips, and gritted his teeth at the thought of his father going to the very top to look over his shoulder, half a world away. He stood there with his back to Bob tired of the word games he played with those outside of his own little SpyNation. Carter's hands were tied, he knew it and decided it wasn't worth pissing Bob off, but he also didn't want to let him have the last word. Without turning around to face Bob, he let him have it.

"I don't know what you get from this Bob, but we're here to give these people a chance at life. If you can't be a productive member of this corps of selfless people you need to find a hole to hide in. Spy on me all you want. Just don't become part of the problem." With that he walked away, his head held high.

One evening as a punchy Luka and Carter pondered their thoughts through exhaustion they found some discarded cardboard and made a sign for the mess hall, renaming it **_Midway Diner _**in honor of Chicago's older and more run down of its two airports. Going to "the Midway" became a regular part of spoken language at the camp, giving them a piece of home whether the worker was from Chicago or not.

Finally filled with long tables and benches, one in particular became silently reserved for the two doctors, Sean, Othiamba, Toomay and the four children. Bob was frequently in attendance, but rarely came in from the front steps, just around the corner from their table.

The food finally made its arrival within a week and when Carter sat down to lunch he was taken aback at the meal: unmistakably Toomay's mwamba stew and chickwange. "_Toomay_," he yelled out, "I love you, ya know that?"

Toomay raced out from the back of the mess hall with her own place setting. "You hush," she affectionately scolded Carter, "there will be no yelling in my kitchen." The children giggled at the play acting from the grown-ups.

"Yes m'am. I'm just going to concentrate on eating." Carter's eyes sparkled as he was taken back to his first introduction to Congolese cooking in Joseph's and Toomay's house. "Mmm, just like in Ikela," he quietly spoke to himself. "Hey, where's Luka? Last time I saw him he was storming out of the clinic, not too happy with the help. Who is it, anyway?"

"Aye, well," Sean spoke between bites, "with most of the refugees thus far being women and children, he needed help with OB/GYN, so I stole a doc from the nearby research project that had dwindled into its treatment phase."

Luka suddenly appeared and sat with the group. "Thanks Sean. That woman is a _pain in my **ass**!_" His head in his hands propped by the elbows, Luka sighed and rubbed his face in frustration.

"She's got spunk, doesn't she?" Sean touted in oblivious satisfaction.

That remark earned Sean only the most evil look Luka could muster. "I swear if the food doesn't kill me first…"

"Um, Luka…" Carter's attempts to alert Luka to the designated chef was ignored. "I don't think…"

"…. that woman will drive me to a swift suicide."

In her own proud way, Toomay quietly placed Luka's food in front of him. "Here's your lunch, Dr. Luka. Would you like me to check it for poison?"

Without looking up from his plate, perhaps in shame of his outburst or maybe fear of Toomay's rath, Luka tried to backtrack. "Would this be mwamba?"

Toomay stood silently by his side, hovering over his shoulder as she served up his portion of chickwange and coffee, almost painfully slow.

"And did you make it, Toomay?" Luka cringed as he became timid in his humility.

"It did not come from a tin," Toomay answered, her African accent punctuating the consonants.

Suddenly the table erupted in laughter as everyone enjoyed the scolding Toomay was giving Luka. They, too, cracked smiles as their eyes exchanged apologies.

"Hey, at least you _have _help," Carter threw in. "I feel like I'm getting pulled in ten different directions at once."

"Ah… and that, John, I can help you with." Sean stood to clear his own dishes, eager to get back to work himself. "Some more workers are arriving from Kampala today. One college student in particular, a Todd Casey, is a 'legacy'. His father worked for us years ago in India and now he wants his son to experience volunteering in the third world. So, I've paired him up with you for now."

"Me?" Carter was not quite comfortable in the responsibility, much less the burden. "I think Othiamba could use some help with the security detail."

Sean stood behind Carter and tapped him on the shoulder. "His father is also one of our top contributors."

"Oh… okay… I get it. Help is help." Carter looked up from his plate to give Luka a nice, big, shit eating grin. "Well, I, for one, am _grateful _to have the help and look forward to having a strong… young… college student to rely on."

_**

* * *

The game of life is a game of boomerangs. Our thoughts, deeds and words return to us sooner or later with astounding accuracy.** -Florence Scovel Shinn American Artist, Metaphysics Teacher, Author  
**

* * *

**_

Carter waited on the porch of the Midway for the transport to turn up with the new workers. It had not rained once since their own arrival over a week ago and the region itself was in the middle of a drought. The covered porch at the Midway was the only place in the camp that provided overhead protection other than inside the buildings themselves, but it didn't prevent the dirt from being driven into his face giving him and the other volunteers masks around their sunglasses. It made them look older than they were, and couldn't hide their hagard looks.

Through the plastic covered window in the door of the hanger, Luka spied Carter sitting on the porch with his head buried in his hands, either getting a rest or trying to avoid the blowing debris. They were both tired, but it was a good tired as they worked to put their last trip behind them and give back to the people.

"_Luka_…" The woman's voice grated on him as she bellowed from the stock room at the far end. With no patients at the moment, he was left with her controlling need to reorganize the few supplies they had.

"…_who put the sterile dressings under all the bottles of saline? Jesus Christ, one stray projectile and we lose them all_." The corrugated tin walls only served to reverberate her gruff voice and amplify it deep through Luka's core making him almost need to spit out a bitter aftertaste.

Luka drew in a deep breath and drummed his head against the door in hopes of shaking free the marbles that had accumulated there since the woman's arrival.

One, two, three, _four_… that one hurt but at least it helped him to refocus his mounting frustration.

Five, six, seven…

"_Oh for crying out loud_… **_KOVAC!_**"

That was it. Luka pushed the swinging doors wide open and charged out of the hanger making his way to the Midway as fast as he could. He stood on the back side of a post, almost willing it to be wide enough to hide him from the clinic doorway should she come looking for him.

"You know, you should have that looked at." Carter held a concerned, yet comical look on his face.

"What?"

"That ass of yours. Still having pains back there?" The fun he was having at Luka's expense would have never been conceivable before their first Congo trip and all they had gone through together. Carter was certainly enjoying seeing Luka's patience tested to the very core.

"Very funny. I don't know how much longer I can bite my tongue."

"Why should you have to? It's your clinic. I mean, what's she going to do? Pull a gun on you?"

"Somehow I doubt she could handle a weapon. With her mouth, why would she even need one? I think she'd even give Jules a run for his ransom money."

"Now Luka," Carter gave with a sarcastic condescension, "you're a big boy… a professional. You should be able take charge. All you have to do is have a colleague-to-colleague talk with her."

If looks could kill, Carter would have evaporated at that very moment. Luka had obviously gone past the humorous side of the situation and didn't appreciate the jibes he was getting anymore. "Be my guest. At least run interference for a while."

"Alright, I promise I'll get over there sometime today to meet her." Carter tipped his head back resting it on the post, then covered his face with his hat. "You've given me so much to look forward to." Luka's groan couldn't be missed, and of course Carter needed to add to it. "Besides, I think she's sweet on you."

"Don't even go there," Luka pleaded with him as Carter's hat jiggled with laughter. "Can't you do something about her? Isn't there some research project on the other side of the continent waiting for her over bearing mouth?"

"Nope, sorry. That's Sean's department, my friend, and from what I understand docs aren't turned away." He uncrossed his arms and patted Luka on the shoulder who had taken a seat next to him, then let him settle into the huge sigh working its way out of his mouth. "You'll be okay. Come on, it can't be all that bad."

Just then, a matatous - the white Toyota mini-vans used for transit in Uganda - pulled up to the Midway. Several people exited from both sides of the van, all but one met by other volunteers. There in front of Carter was a short statured, pathetic looking creature certainly plopped in the middle of the most distant place his prep school body had ever been in.

"Todd? Todd Casey?" Carter hoped against hope that this wasn't his Todd. But the young man nodded. "I'm Dr. John Carter and this is Dr. Kovac." The men shook the new arrival's hand and duly noted the clammy consistency of Crisco that his palms exuded.

"He looks like a Todd," Luka quietly pitched into Carter's ear from behind.

The slender student was wearing a crisp navy blue golf shirt with an orange _Syracuse University _logo in the corner. Looking as though he had just been dressed by a high society stylist, the pressed shirt was neatly tucked into pleated khaki shorts cinched properly by a leather belt with a polished brass square buckle. His reddish blonde hair was cut almost to a brush cut allowing his few freckles to really stand out on his face. As Luka walked around the kid, he had to almost put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing aloud - at Carter, not the kid. Motioning to Todd's lower legs, Luka finally turned around and once again leaned against the post, his shoulders quivering.

There between the boy's white knobby knees and brown Birkenstock sandals, were white socks pulled half way up his calves.

"S-U, huh?" Carter pointed to his shirt, hoping to avert his eyes from the disaster below the knees and attempted to make conversation. "What's your major?"

"Um, ah…" the kid fumbled as he looked up the much taller men, "… ah… well in fact my undergraduate degrees are in Computer Science Informatics and Mollecular Biology…,"

"And not a computer in site," Luka mumbled.

"…but I'm working on my doctorate in the SB3 program."

Carter's mouth failed to close all the way as he fought to catch up to Todd's level of comprehension. "SB3?"

"Yes. Structural Biology, Biochemistry and Biophysics. It's a newer doctoral program designed to address the growing research into the Human Genome Project." Carter simply nodded as he exchanged looks with Luka who **_so _**wanted to mock Todd over his shoulder. "You see, hundreds of thousands of newly discovered biomolecules are just waiting to be defined for structure, function as well as their relationship to each other. It's all very cutting edge and… and… exciting."

Carter feigned interest as Luka, standing behind Todd, returned Carter's jibes and sarcasm with his humored looks alone. "Sssss…. so, you think Boeheim's team has a chance to repeat their win at the tournament?" The kid stared blankly through Carter. "I mean with Carmello Anthony off to the NBA this year it looks like last season was all him. The question is do those underclassmen have…"

"Who?"

"Carmello Anth…," Carter stopped himself short realizing that this kid was definitely outside the box. "Never mind."

"How about something cold to drink," Toomay announced as she pushed her way through the mess hall doors with an arm full of bottled water.

"Yeah… thanks Toomay. I do need a drink." Carter opened his bottle and drank down most of it in one slug. Taking a breath he glanced reluctantly at Todd who was busy picking a zit on his neck as Luka was enjoying the payback Carter was getting. Luka thought it was well deserved and amusing to boot. His day was made and going back to Atilla the Doc would be somewhat easier.

As the matatous pulled away, Carter and Luka noticed an out of place, balding man standing in the middle of the camp roadway. He wore a suit and bowtie, had a satchel over one shoulder and carried an obsolete, cheap, department store suitcase. As he wrinkled his nose under the horn rimmed glasses Carter instantly felt a lump in his stomach realizing his day was going from great to bad to worse.

"Who is that?" Toomay asked.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Hands on his head, Carter's mouth hung open as he pondered the man's presence.

"Who?" Luka asked again.

"Norman Tyson. He's a know-it-all _bean counter _from the Foundation." Carter scooted off the porch in the direction of the lost man tossing out instructions as he fled. "Toomay, can you show Todd to the student dorms and then have him meet me back here? Todd, long pants only. The bugs here will eat you for breakfast. And for God's sake, put a hat on that pink scalp of yours. And… and shoes, Todd… **_shoes._**"

Carter's feet kicked up plenty of dirt and stones as he rushed across the make-shift roadway to greet the Foundation representative. "Mr. Tyson, ah… welcome to our camp. But, what on earth did you come all the way here for?"

The man pulled out a crisp white linen handkerchief and dabbed at the hand Carter had just shook, then his moist forehead before answering. "The Board of Directors felt it necessary to have a financial officer on site to monitor the flow of funds."

"Is that right?" Carter hid his disgust of the lack of trust from his own foundation.

"As comptroller I felt it my duty to be the one to manage the situation. By the way, would it not be more frugal to travel workers by public transportation instead of those mini vans? Four hundred kilometers is a long way to transport a few people via special vehicle."

"Got the pampered first class treatment did you?" Carter sarcastically asked him. It was not a good day for Norman Tyson to descend on John Carter's hell. Looking to his left at the clinic doors, Luka was getting back to work, but not before giving Carter a friendly wave, nice wide grin and an overly enthusiastic, if not belligerent, thumbs up.

"Dr. Kovac," Carter yelled across the way as he hurried to get his new guest there, "I'd like you to meet Mr. Tyson." More handshakes prompted Tyson to retrieve his hanky once again, patting at his hand then his forehead before the man removed his eyeglasses and slowly, but methodically, wiped each lens in a clockwise motion - six times. "I think Mr. Tyson would find it most interesting to meet your colleague and have her discuss the inventory with him."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Carter, but we'll be seeing patients shortly…," Luka looked at Tyson for a reaction, then, "… female patients….," still no reaction, then with a smile he added, "…for gynecological exams."

Norman Tyson's dust covered face turned three shades of red as the meticulous, slow-on-the-uptake, anal retentive accountant fumbled his glasses and handkerchief. "Oh…. **_OH_**… well, I… ah… actually Dr. Carter, I really need to just talk to you, mostly today at least."

"Well," Luka said with a smile and relief, "why don't I take Mr. Tyson's things and store them in the office for now. That way you two can get right to work."

"Thank you, Dr. Kovac," Carter spoke through his gritted teeth, "I wouldn't want to keep you from your lovely assistant any longer, would I?"

With Norman tagging behind taking notes, Carter and Todd got to work hauling very heavy rolled up canvas tents to their designated spots in one of the open fields. Back and forth from the huge pile to the carefully laid out grid where refugees would eventually set up their shelters, Carter positioned his end up on his shoulder leading the way, Todd barely making it as he anchored the team at the rear. As Norman thought of a question he would scurry alongside Carter picking his brain and jotting down absolutely everything Carter said.

Todd began to crumble under the late afternoon sun, stopping several times to straighten his back. "I have a delicate frame," he whined as he sat on the ground looking up at a sweat drenched Carter. "My mother said I should pace myself."

"You do that, Todd. Wouldn't want you to stress that weak backbone of yours."

There to Carter's right hand side, Norman Tyson looked up at the open sky seemingly evaluating the angle of the sun. Reaching inside his satchel he pulled out a compact umbrella and opened it to shade his balding head from the sun.

"This is _not _happening to me," Carter mumbled to himself.

Just then, a savior appeared - Toomay, out rounding up her children. "Toomay, you are just the person I need. Please help me out," Carter implored. "Find some place for Mr. Tyson to get to work."

"I would be happy to. Come, Mr. Tyson, I think you belong with me." Toomay gently encouraged Norman along and looked back at Carter over her shoulder as they walked away noting his exasperated look.

"Let's go, Todd."

Carter's end of the rolled Canvas tarps became heavier as Todd did less and less to haul his end. On one of the treks he noticed a sudden lifting of the canvas - an evening out of weight distribution - and he hoped that Todd had finally joined the program. Dropping it at its spot he turned to give the kid some deserved praise but instead saw that he was still back at the pile, liberally applying a white goo of zinc ointment to his red nose. His anchor was, surprisingly, Bob.

"That kid's sharp as a bowling ball, isn't he?" Bob mused.

"What. Get tired of snaking around, Bob?"

"We'll just keep this to ourselves, won't we," Bob, hands on hips, gave Carter. "Who's Mr. Peepers you shuttled out of here earlier," he asked.

"An unwelcome suit from Chicago here to babysit the pennies."

"Imagine that. Somebody from the states… out of their element… here to muck up your mission. Hmm."

Carter and Bob finished up with the tarps and headed back to the center of camp with Todd at their heels. Carter wanted to see Sean to talk about a piece of equipment he was hoping he could get when he remembered his promise to Luka to stop in at the clinic and meet the new doctor. Like fly paper, Todd was right there at the hanger as Carter opened the door.

"Todd, take a break. Another break. Someone will get you for dinner."

"I have some food allergies you should know about," Todd added.

"I'm sure you do," Carter replied with a forced smile. "Don't worry, if you stop breathing we have medicine for that - I hope."

Stealing away just a moment of solitude, Carter stopped inside the clinic to take a deep breath and close his eyes. He had never had so much help make so much more work for him before.

"Come on, it can't be all that bad." Luka startled him as he came from behind a curtained off exam area, smiling ear to ear.

"You have _no _idea."

"Oh, but I do." Luka winked with a half smile as he pointed to the curtain.

"Let's get this over with," Carter whispered as he and Luka started around the corner.

Sean's voice stopped them momentarily. "Hey John, what's Mr. Tyson doing in Toomay's kitchen?"

"I asked her to find a place for him to get to work."

"With an apron on? Cleaning vegetables?"

"What?" Carter was puzzled then slapped his forehead with his hand. "Oh **_shit_**. I told her he was a _bean counter_."

As Carter ran from the building the new doctor stepped away from her patient and looked out the door at the fleeing man.

"Is that John Carter I just heard? From Chicago?"


	5. Chapter 5 It's Always There

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**_Chapter Five_**

Sean's voice stopped them momentarily. "Hey John, what's Mr. Tyson doing in Toomay's kitchen?"

"I asked her to find a place for him to get to work."

"With an apron on? Cleaning vegetables?"

"What?" Carter was puzzled then slapped his forehead with his hand. "Oh **_shit_**. I told her he was a _bean counter_."

Carter was lucky the swinging doors didn't pop him back in the head as he barreled through them on the way to rescue the appointed Carter Foundation peripatetic accountant from unintentional KP duty. Luka and Sean's laughter couldn't be missed, but the vaguely familiar voice of the woman barely registered with him.

There at a table duly scraping vegetables was Norman the Number Nerd. Carter scrambled to find a doable way to explain the situation while saving face. "Good to see that you're finding your way around the kitchen," he said as he strained to hide his out of breath lungs.

"Personally, doctor, I don't see how this aids me in my fiscal responsibilities."

"Well," he cleared his throat, "actually we… ah… believe that everyone here has to experience what… all of the jobs entail." Carter slowed his words hoping that the next sentence would magically slide out of his fumbling mouth. Glad that the man was normally slow to catch on, Carter decided to continue his embellishment. "We don't have the luxury to interview from… from a pool of applicants when help is needed, so it's important that in a crisis we… um… can step into another area." There. That sounded good. Reasonable. Text book-like. A white lie. Sort of. Carter swallowed hard and nodded as he hoped that his bullshit of an explanation was bought at better than face value.

Toomay's voice became louder as she walked into the kitchen from the storeroom. "Alright Mr. Tyson, here are your beans. Oh, hello Dr. Carter. Nice of you to visit my kitchen."

Carter raised his eyebrows at her trying to telepathically convince her to shut up. "Yes, ah Toomay, why don't you…"

"You Americans have a funny way of doing things…"

"Yes, yes we do," Carter put out, motioning towards the door, "but now Mr. Tyson needs to move on."

"… but I will not argue. If Mr. Tyson needs to count the beans before dinner I don't have a problem with that as long as he completes his job. Do you also have a rice counter coming?"

Norman Tyson stood so quickly his hips jarred the table spewing the cassavas he was cleaning in all directions. "A joke? Hmmm? You think this is funny?" Throwing the apron onto the table, Norman stormed out of the kitchen door, Carter close behind.

"Mr. Tyson…. sir… sometimes communication is a problem here. Colloquialisms don't always translate even though we….. Mr. Tyson… please… " The man was oblivious to the direction he was walking in heading straight towards a path at the edge of the wooded area, "… sir, don't go in there."

"More advice, Dr. Carter? A game? Perhaps you should work on your poker face," he spewed haughtily as he unrolled the sleeves of his dress shirt and carefully re-buttoned them. "I think I'd prefer to be alone."

"That's fine, but let me find you a place in the camp. An office. My office."

Norman Tyson strolled through the treed archway of the jungle pausing only to orient himself to the lush green surroundings that contradicted the dusty brown dirt and paved tarmac of the refugee camp. Looking above him and around, he listened to the mesmerizing sounds of the wildlife. A false invitation that he naively accepted. He fancied himself a nice walk in the woods.

"I resent your malevolent attitude and disdainful regard for my position," he spouted blindly to who he saw as the arrogant Carter family nepotistic doctor standing at the tree line in back of him.

Carter opened his mouth to explain, but Tyson put his finger in the air obviously refusing the young man any words.

"You came to us and asked for millions of dollars - more than we have _ever _applied to any one charity, and we gave it to you. Yet, you toy with me when I come here on behalf of the Foundation simply to help manage the funds?"

Carter leaned against a tree arms crossed in front of him in relaxed fashion and, knowing his words would simply bounce off Tyson, half heartedly and quite calmly warned the man of the danger ahead of him. "I wouldn't go too far into the woods."

The handkerchief out again, Tyson dabbed at his forehead before continuing his tirade. "This is a business. Whether in Africa, New York, Paris or Chicago - this is a _business_. Do you not understand?"

"Mm hmm," Carter sighed as he maintained his calm composure.

Tyson finally looked back over his shoulder at the doctor, and shoved his glasses up on his skyward nose. Before he could take another step forward the muzzle of a very long gun found its way to the little man's chest prompting his arms as far over his head as he could manage. Mouth quivering and knees threatening to buckle, the gun had its intended affect.

Allowing for a few moments of squirm factor, Carter finally stepped forward to intervene. "It's okay. He's with me," he calmly told the familiar soldier whose eyes he connected with. Putting an arm around Tyson, the two walked out of the woods back towards the camp. "You can put your arms down now."

"Now let _me _explain something. This is a business here too: _my _business. But it's not all about the numbers here. It's about lives, and that line between life and death is awfully thin here." Carter stooped slightly to look Norman in the eyes, not quite certain he had his complete attention. He decided to pull out the trump card and lower his voice almost to a hush before continuing on. "I assume you know what happened to Dr. Kovac and me a few months ago just over the border in the Congo. Rebels are more than willing to take foreigners in exchange for cash or political gain."

"Are there rebels all around the camp?" Even the sweat beading along his upper lip was orderly.

"He isn't a rebel. He is a Ugandan soldier here to protect us."

"How can you tell?"

"Well, it's not always easy. The rebels know how to pass themselves off as soldiers. Just stay within the camp and you'll be fine."

"What if they took me? Would they do something…" Norman looked around hastily, dropping his faux poise, "… something untoward to me?"

"_Untoward_?" Carter fought to maintain his composure, losing out to his raised eyebrows. "You mean… like, as in… oh… well, look, rebels in this part of the world wouldn't think twice about raping women, girls or even kidnapping them to use as sex slaves. But as far as raping men, I understand that that just isn't something…." Maintaining eye contact with Tyson nearly put Carter away as he searched up and down, around, anywhere but straight at the man. "I… I don't think you have anything to worry about. Relax. Now, I'm sorry about the communication problem earlier with Mrs. Bisango… Toomay. Don't hold it against her, she'll be cooking your food after all."

From behind the exam curtain, she heard a familiar voice, but by the time she had stepped around the corner and caught the doors swinging back and forth, the voice's owner was dashing across the camp towards the Midway, nearly falling on his face as he stumbled on the edge of the stone path. His gate, tall stature, dark hair - all familiar to her. She had seen enough to make a qualified guess.

"Is that John Carter I just heard? From Chicago?"

"You know Carter?" Luka asked.

"Well, yeah. I worked at County. Since when does John Carter trade the comforts of the family mansion for the African Continent?"

"You'll have to ask him that yourself." Luka really didn't want to talk about Carter's personal life behind his back, especially with someone he didn't quite get along with.

"You know him well?"

"I've worked with him for about four years, give or take."

"Is he still kind of klutzy and flighty?"

Luka was slowly getting the impression that this woman thrived on adversity with her peers and didn't want to have to defend Carter before he even got a chance to re-introduce himself. "He's an excellent doctor and a very good teacher." He didn't feel he should have to qualify Carter's professional ability and mumbled under his breath, "he's been through a lot."

"What do you mean by…"

"Excuse me," Paulette interrupted them, "I think we have a new patient." The teenaged assistant was accompanied by one of the newer American volunteers. "Mrs. Wiant has some bruising I think you should see."

"Really, I don't think this is really necessary," the embarrassed woman announced. "I'm tired but I don't feel sick. I've been helping to put the school building together and must have just over done it."

The doctors took her arms and noted the deep bruises before asking her to get into a gown for an exam. They knew what they were seeing and hoped they had caught it early. Other than a low grade temperature and slightly elevated heart rate, the woman's vitals were within the normal range. Upon exam they found more bruising on her legs and back as well as petechiae - pinpoint-sized hemorrhages of small capillaries in the skin resembling tiny red dots - on her face.

"Well," Luka sighed as he sat next to the woman, "it's obvious from the exam alone that you are experiencing something called thrombocytopenia, which means your bone marrow is no longer producing platelets, your platelets are being destroyed or both. Platelets are what cause your blood to clot." Luka spoke calmly to Mrs. Wiant as she sat up straight in the bed obviously becoming anxious. "What's triggering this is a mystery at this point. Sometimes people get what's called Idiopathic Thrombocytopenia Purpura, or ITP. Idiopathic means 'without known cause.'"

"Will I die from this?" the woman asked, her eyes now wide with nervousness and tears.

"If left untreated, yes, you will die," the woman doctor interjected coldly from above and behind Luka's shoulder.

Luka shot of look of disgust at his colleague. "Let's not put the carriage before the horse here. Regardless of the cause, we need to start giving you medication - IV steroids - to stimulate your bone marrow. Are you allergic to anything? Any medications?"

"No. In fact I've been taking an antibiotic for about a week now for a urinary tract infection. I saw a doctor at Nebbi Hospital in the village."

"A sulfa? Bactrim or Septra?"

"Yes, Bactrim DS," the woman sat up suspicious now of her doctors' sudden concern. "Is that what is causing this?"

"It could be an allergic reaction, yes. It's been known to happen," Luka answered.

"But I've taken it before. Maybe three or four times. That's why I asked for it."

"Well then your bleeding could be caused by something else. We have no way of knowing," the female doctor told her.

Luka, still sitting by the patient, turned his head towards the standoffish doctor and spoke without looking directly at her. "Not necessarily. Can I see you outside, doctor?"

Carter and Tyson walked back to the Midway porch where Bob was sitting taking in the late day sun. He and Tyson looked each other over before dismissing any thought of introducing themselves. It was like two snakes converging in the desert: neither wanting to meet, but both willing to share the territory.

"You need to stop thinking out loud in front of a patient. For Christ sake, you're going to scare her." Luka shouted as he stormed out of the clinic… again.

"Well she _should _be scared. This is not the common cold we're talking about."

"And we are not in the states with millions of dollars of diagnostic equipment at our feet. _She doesn't need to know that right away_."

"Need a second opinion?" Carter was standing on the porch steps between the two other men stretching his back and wincing. "Or should I say, third?" Taking off his sunglasses allowing them to hang around his neck, Carter's grin erupted as the woman recognized him. "Luka, I think I have to take back what I said about her and guns. Maggie Doyle is a proficient gun handler." Carter and Maggie embraced and laughed aloud as a bewildered Luka looked on. "Boy, it's good to see you, Maggie."

"What the hell brings you to this wasteland, Carter?" Maggie asked as she consciously put herself between the two men, her back squarely to Luka's face.

"The Carter Foundation is sponsoring the camp and Luka is setting up the clinic for the Alliance. How long are you here for?"

"I finished my commitment with a schistosomiasis research program deep in the middle of the continent, so I'm yours for as long as you need me, I guess."

Luka rolled his eyes. "Can we get back to our patient? Carter, we have a patient with ITP - bruising, petechiae, oral/pharyngeal blood blisters, fatigue, low grade fever, slightly elevated heart rate - but there's a catch. She's on Bactrim, had several courses in her lifetime. Can't rule out drug allergy, but it just doesn't fit the mold."

"How long has she been in Africa?"

"Six months."

"Liver and spleen involvement?" Carter asked.

"Slightly enlarged on palpation, not specifically tender yet." Luka was puzzled with Carter's line of questioning. "What are you getting at?"

"Luka, remember when we got back to Chicago after our stay in the Congo? What one hematologic anomaly did we both exhibit?"

Luka nodded as he saw where Carter was going. "Anemia."

"I think we may be seeing a secondary reaction brought on by the Bactrim in response to anemia."

"Megaloblastic Anemia - a folic acid deficiency," Maggie interjected catching on, "her diet probably had little in it."

"So what do we do?" Luka wondered, "we don't know how low her platelets are. I'm not sure we can risk a transport. She already has some spontaneous bleeds in the back of her throat and behind her kidney"

"From what you say, I would bet on her count being under 10,000." Carter put his hands on his hips as he struggled to balance the needs of the woman with what they could offer without killing her first. "Let's see what steroids do tonight, keep an eye on her output - once the liver is involved the kidneys usually step in line - and treat her anemia. And let's get everyone that came from outside the country on a supplement. Use the prenatal vitamin packs we got from the manufacturer if we have to."

"If we had an accurate platelet count we could determine whether it's safe to transport her," Maggie added.

"I know," Carter looked between the two other doctors and at Bob and Tyson before digging into his next thought. "Look, my sister has a distributor lined up to sell us a piece of lab equipment similar to a VetScan, which she uses in her clinic. It does in-house blood chemistries on thirteen different values. With donated rotors, we can essentially have our own lab here."

"Vet? Is this veterinary equipment?" Luka asked.

"Well, the VetScan is, yeah. It's the same type of unit that the army uses in field hospitals. The unit she has in mind is used. It's been modified for human use. Getting a brand new unit would be cost prohibitive and in this climate, a gamble."

"And how much does this machine cost?" Norman asked.

"With the computer system needed for human conversion and the A/C for the office, somewhere around $40,000."

Norman chortled as he cleaned his glasses… again. "Quite wasteful for a refugee clinic, don't you think."

"Who is this creep?" Maggie blurted. She got straight into his face forcing him two steps backwards. "Do you even know what you're talking about?" Nearly dropping his glasses, Norman turned and tripped up the steps into the mess hall.

Carter was going to enjoy having his old friend there, if only he could mediate Luka's differences with her. The three joined Norman for dinner in the Midway, Maggie and Carter lagging behind Luka. "What's with Tall-Dark-and-Brooding?" Maggie muttered.

Carter couldn't help but to smile just a little as he quickly realized he was in the middle. "Give him time. He's an excellent doctor."

"Yeah? That's what he said about you." Maggie halted for just a moment as she thought to herself. _Those two aren't………. Nah_.

At dinner that night, Carter introduced Maggie to the table while Luka distanced himself for the sake of sanity. When Todd walked toward the table with his plate Carter waved him off, pointing to a table at the far end where the other volunteers sat.

"That wasn't nice, Richie Rich," Maggie chided him with a slight bump of the shoulder and a sly smile.

Carter managed to screw his face up as he swallowed his food. "No. I need this small amount of time without the wonderkid."

"Aw… he looks so lonely. What's his story?"

"Comes from a load of money. He's clumsy, overeager to please and obviously only here to appease his father who sent him here in exchange for a large tax write-off."

Maggie stared through him. "Sounds like someone I once knew."

"And where is our Mr. Tyson?" Toomay asked.

"I believe he took his dinner to his room. I think he's a little overwhelmed," Carter said as he thought to himself how overwhelmed he had been earlier in the day himself. "And afraid of our Dr. Doyle."

"_He is not_," countered Maggie.

"Oh, but he is." Carter winked and moved one cheek away from Maggie to allow for the jab he was certain he'd get.

As usual, Bob sat on the steps just outside the door. "Bob," Carter called out, "we know you're out there. Why don't you join us."

Bob stood facing the diners. "Thank you, I think. But for now," he pointed a finger at Othiamba, "I'd like to borrow Lurch over there." Downing his last bite, Othiamba glanced around the room first at Sean, then Carter and Luka, for their go-aheads before leaving with Bob.

"Don't worry, Othiamba," Carter announced with sarcasm, "you're in good hands with Bob. If you're not back by nightfall we'll send Norman after you."

The familiar cast of doctors and workers congregated on the porch of the Midway after the dinner hour for one last night of calm before the first big busload of refugees poured in the next morning. With not much to share, they enjoyed the mysteriously mosquito-less evening in relative silence. Sean sipped coffee on the steps. Toomay sat in the doorway as she dried the just washed eating utensils. Todd reclined in a chair writing a letter. Maggie propped herself against the post. Carter and Luka sat on the edge of the porch at the far end away from the others, almost reflexively together, yet apart. Wind tussled their ungroomed hair and gave them a refreshing breeze as it invaded the openings in their well worn, rarely washed garments. Between gusts there was no mistaking the sound of drums and voices in the distance, barely audible but not ignored. A celebration for a visiting dignitary, Othiamba had explained earlier in the day.

Carter was focused on Mbuto, Joseph, Tolo, as well as other refugee and missionary children playing with the soccer balls off to the side. Their laughter carried across the excessively dry environment and if Carter watched their faces close enough he could see that their echoing voices lagged behind, the distance being the only barrier. The pitter-pat of the drums, the voices, the haunting melodies, gave him pause as he felt a fleeting connection and absent mindedly rubbed his wrists that had once been strangled so severely by rope. His head dropped into his chest as he fought to catch his suffocating breath against the hollow reminder of their captivity. With his overly deep breath he straightened his back away from the invisible force behind him.

Luka shivered then closed his eyes as a wave of déjà vu crossed him causing him to take a sharp, deep breath. Cocking his head to strain his ears in the direction of the village he put himself in a dark, smothering hut, his only connection to the outside the faint voices and change in weather he had experienced through consolation. The porch floor boards beneath his left hand enveloped his momentary lapse of location as the feel alone broadened his sense of enclosure. Without thought, he put his right hand in front of him, almost pushing out at the air, just as he had done to catch the warmth of the sun as the beams crept between the loose boards of the hut.

"Think about it much?"

Carter caught Luka off guard as he opened his eyes and brought his hand back to his lap.

"Every day," he smiled apprehensively, looking down into his lap. "You?"

"I kind of store it with the other not so pleasant memories that deserve to be shelved but not shredded. But… I don't know," Carter spoke quietly as he shook his head, "something just… I got this…"

"Feeling?" The two finally looked at each other as their private conversation became almost telepathic. "I know. Me too. It's always there, but not like this. It's almost as if he…" Luka lost himself in thought, not wanting to even mention the name.

"But he's _not _here. We're free, Luka."

"I know. So is he."

Maggie looked on at the two men as they sat next to each other obviously lost in thought. What was it about those two? Luka's hand stretched out at no one as Carter arched his back. Again with the back discomfort, she thought. Whispers, sighs… certainly not talking about the Bulls.

"What are you two looking at?" Maggie's voice startled both doctors whose eyes focused ahead of them.

"The sunset," they answered in unison, squinting through the harsh rays of the setting sun. Like the glow of an impressionist's painting, the brilliant orange and pink hues from the sky hung over the bright green tree tops at the edge of the airfield slowly fading into the black brush strokes of impending nighttime as a pair of headlights headed towards them.


	6. Chapter 6 Clank Click Bang

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**_Chapter Six_**

Like the glow of an impressionist's painting, the brilliant orange and pink hues from the sky hung over the bright green tree tops at the edge of the airfield slowly fading into the black brush strokes of impending nighttime as a pair of headlights headed towards them. As they got closer it became evident that this wasn't the usual minivan or Land Rover, but a bus. Behind the wheel was a smiling Othiamba waving at the surprised crew as he applied the brakes. It was an old bus. Not obsolete, but nonetheless an older model.

"What in the world is this?" Sean asked Bob.

"Nope. Not my doing. I just borrowed the guy to help haul some special cargo." Opening the rear fire door of the bus, Bob pulled out a half dozen cases of Nile Special Lager. "It's not the piss weak American stuff or warm fuzzy Irish shit, but Ugandan beer isn't half bad."

"Gee Bob, you _do _care." Luka mocked as he opened up the first box and helped himself.

"Don't get carried away Hero Boy. If I have to hang around here I ain't gonna do it slinging back shots of packaged tap water."

In the hoop-la of the beer delivery, Othiamba was left holding the keys as the children suddenly rushed him and the bus. Toomay scolded the children in English, French and Lingala while trying unsuccessfully to wave them away from the large vehicle.

"We can paint red crosses on it to signify that we are a medical facility," Othiamba gleefully announced.

"Othiamba," Carter quietly and with much reserve, asked, "where did you get the bus?"

"I know some people."

"Where did you get the bus?" Carter repeated.

"I know the people and they let me have it for the camp."

The beer didn't quite make it into the building before hands dove into the cases. Warm or not, it was a nice treat and welcome change. The group decided to stay outside in the moonlight enjoying the rare bug free nightscape. Even Bob joined them, popping the cap from a beer and handing it to Carter.

"No thanks, I don't drink."

"Since when?" Maggie asked, giving him a friendly elbow in the side. "What happened to the Carter who enjoyed a beer or two after a long shift?"

Carter smiled sheepishly, shook his head a little and shrugged his shoulders, choosing instead to change the subject. "So Sean, tell us about you. What took you away from Ireland?"

"Mmm. Well, I suppose it was a need to do something for people."

"Geez, could have stayed home for that," Bob blabbed as he hiked his pants up around his slightly pronounced love handles.

"This _is _my part of the world now." Sean put down a good half of his first bottle of beer before taking advantage of the group's curiosity. "Okay. I grew up with my sister and two brothers in Kinsale, County Cork on the southern end of Ireland, primarily a fishing village right on St. George's Channel. Beautiful green moss and trees, lovely spring wild flowers. The sea air always had a chill, but was so _invigorating_." Luka smiled at the Irishman as they wordlessly shared their seaside memories.

"We rented a little stone house on the hill just above the coast and below some farm fields." He was lost in thought as he put himself back in his homeland. "Me Da had a fishin' boat and he worked every single day except Sunday, of course, maybe eighteen hours a day. We kids had to help him out sometimes giving us good reason to play hooky from school. Ma, she didn't like that very much, but we had to take advantage of the season while we could. Most everyone in Kinsale worked in the fishing industry in some way and the church made sure that morning mass and confessional was at 5am. No excuse to miss it, and me Ma walked Da and us kids to the front door of the church to make sure we got there."

Toomay laughed as she got up to take the children to their beds for the night. "My Joseph would have said that that woman was born holding **all **of her family's tickets to St. Peter's gate in her pocket."

"So did you come here as part of a church mission?" Luka asked.

Sean paused and waited until Toomay was out of site with the children. "No. Me Da died when a boom on a boat docked next to his fell on him. I'll never forget the day the priest and church secretary came to tell me ma. Landlord gave her a week to pay ahead six months or get out. So Ma packed us up and moved us to Dublin to live with our grandmother in her two bedroom apartment, and join the rest of the ne'er-do-wells on the dole." His comforted smile was now gone, replaced by the somber face of an aged country boy, disaffected only by the passage of time. "It was never the same again. My oldest brother, Jacob, was eighteen and expected to be the working man of the family. He found work alright, but it wasn't a factory job." Sean was lost in thought, peeling the label off the bottle as he spoke. "He was learnin' the ropes from the IRA bastards. Kevin, the baby of the family, used to follow him around. He really looked up to Jacob and his pals. Fekkin' eejits let him be like a mascot of sorts. Kevin had a pitiful stutter and my grandmother, she prayed over him every night after he went to sleep hoping that the Virgin Mary would be so kind as to deliver a miracle. That's how she would pray."

Sean laughed and mocked his grandmothers voice. "Please, blessed Virgin Mary, if you would be so kind as to deliver a miracle to our boy, Kevin, it would be _most _appreciated." It was a memory that translated to everyone on that porch in some way as each made do with their own smile. "Every morning she had him read the headlines from the paper to her, and every morning she was disappointed to hear his stutter again. One day the coppers raided the house the IRA boys were making car bombs in. There was a big lot of shootin' and one of the bombs went off killing him."

"Jacob?" Carter asked.

"No, Kevin. He was twelve years old." In the hush, Sean grabbed another beer, tossing the cap into an empty box, the metal clanking against the others that had grown in quantity very quickly. _Clank_. "Jacob was thrown in prison. Still there today as far as I know, but I haven't seen him in close to fifteen years."

"And your sister?" Luka asked.

"She's back in Kinsale with a husband and I believe her seventh child on the way."

"You've had your share of heartache," Maggie remarked quietly.

"Nah… not compared to some people. I've got my work and my friends." Sean looked around and focused on Todd who was still in his chair, a full open bottle of beer in his hands. "How about you, Todd? Have you made some pals here yet?"

"No. I… I don't really have much in common with the other college students here." Todd stared at the student dormitory building, sounds of laughter and chatter floating towards him as the kids wrapped up their evenings in wild card games. "But that's okay. I guess I'm used to that."

"Just remember, the first drop of broth is the hottest. Give it time, lad. For now you stick with us." Sean never failed to see the good in everyone, and even though he knew Carter was not pleased with his assistant, he hoped that Carter and Todd would somehow manage.

By the end of the first case of beer, Carter had filled Maggie in on the rest of the ER crew.

"Is Romano still there? Or did he finally get his bigoted sexist ass hauled to court?"

"No, he's still there. Actually he had a run in with the tail prop on a medivac chopper and lost an arm."

"Really? Rightous!" Maggie reveled in her celebration for just a moment until the silence around her set in. "Okay… as long as we're talking about massive blood loss… when are we going to get that blood chemistry machine we talked about earlier?"

"Ahhh…," Sean stood to toss his bottle and grab another, "is this the wasteful piece of nuts and bolts Mr. Tyson was complaining to me about earlier?" _Clank_. "He seems to think that it would be as useless as tits on a bull."

"Yep," Carter was exasperated at that point, "we have a patient whose life is in the balance. If we had a platelet count and other values we might be able to take a risk and transport her to the hospital, but if the count is too low the rough trip on those roads could cause hemorrhage. Tyson doesn't understand that something like this might prevent us from taking unnecessary trips out of the camp with critically ill patients. It tells us so much about what is going on inside a patient that we can't see."

"And in the long run may very well save money," Luka added, supporting his colleague.

"Can't you get her out by chopper - a smoother ride?" asked Bob.

"No," Carter shook his head, "the sudden altitude change and pressurization would definitely cause an intracranial bleed. But who knows. Maybe her count is above 30,000 and it would be a risk worth taking."

"Well, in any event, I wouldn't count on your Foundation or the Alliance to approve it" Sean countered. "I can't think of any refugee camp I've ever worked in that has had such laboratory equipment."

"Until now, it was always massive in size and cost prohibitive," Luka added. "But now these units are not much bigger than a desktop PC."

"Let me talk with the people I've been working with." Maggie jumped in. "I don't think I'd have a problem getting the funds."

"Forty thousand dollars?" Sean blurted out. "From a research grant program?"

Carter smiled as he assumed naiveté. "Look Maggie, thanks for the offer, but if the Carter Foundation pisses on the dollar amount, I don't see how…"

"It's the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation."

"What?" Carter did a double take.

"The Schistosomiasis Control Initiative is sponsored by Bill and Melinda. We worked under the Ugandan Bilharzia and Worm Control Programme." Maggie looked around as once again she caused a flurry of silence. "Schisto is a nasty parasite that comes from contact with contaminated water…" Maggie soon realized she had little more than polite attention. "Anyway, it may take time, weeks maybe, but I can probably arrange it."

"You're full of surprises." Carter put his arm around her shoulder. "And I am so glad that you're here."

"Yeah? So tell me. Why are you two guys here?"

Standing against a post, Luka glanced down at Carter, both wondering who would get into this long, mess of an explanation. He opened his next beer and successfully made a basket with the cap. _Clank_. "Carter and I volunteered a few months ago with the Alliance in the Congo."

"And you loved it so much you came back for more?"

"Something like that." Carter gave Maggie a squeeze she took for something akin to squashing a secret.

Maggie grabbed herself another beer as well. "So you know everyone here?" _Clank_.

"Yep. Sean and Toomay helped us with the clinic. Othiamba was a soldier we got to know."

"How about you, Bob? What did you do?"

"Me?" Bob stopped short, taking looks from Sean, Othiamba and Toomay who had returned from putting the children to bed. Carter and Luka kept their gaze down hoping not to bring too much attention to the events that led to their initial encounter with Bob. "I guess you could say I was their meet and greet liaison."

Maggie stiffened and Carter sensed her questioning of events. Knowing his secretive CIA cohort valued his secrets, Carter couldn't resist egging him on to spin another of his yarns. "Now, Bob. We're all friends here. Come on down and tell her the truth." Putting Bob on the spot was fun.

Luka straightened his slouched posture and stepped away from the post. "Bob here is with the CIA… or FBI… or FDA or SAT … well, something with initials. He likes to hang around these parts for jollies." Bob barely registered acknowledgement - in character for him.

"No, really," Maggie dug deeper, "what is it you do?"

"Throw me another beer and send Toddler off to the nursery and I'll tell you a story."

Todd took the hint very well, and without fanfare, was off the porch and heading to his own retreat.

"My specialty is the Middle East." _Clank_. "I was there before the first Gulf War, traveled around a lot, made contacts both in and out of the area. Then after a few years when Clinton tripled the funding for counter terrorism, I got to pick my assignment, so I settled in northern Iraq, Turkey and the rogue nations of the former Soviet Union." Bob was in his element. "You want to see desolate and outdated, go there. Some places took me days of driving and hiking just to reach. Take the Pamirs in Tajikistan. Ruled by warlords, deserters, smugglers and Islamic Guerrillas, this place is only conducive to two occupations: weapons trading and narcotics. The Iranians loved this hell hole and easily dealt with the Soviet officers of the old regime still in uniform, who were drunk more often than not, and obviously unaware that the Cold War was long over." He laughed to himself, ignorant to the people around him who had actually laughed with him. "These guys live in huge junkyards of old soviet weaponry and tanks. What I wouldn't have given to get into one of those antique communist tanks just for a joy ride."

"The Russian Government doesn't want to clean up the mess they left behind?" Carter asked.

"Hell no. This is a dirty little secret and they know they're better off pretending it doesn't exist. More frightening is that they are sitting on uranium and other stuff for nuclear bombs they are more than eager to sell. During this time in the late nineties I started coming across intelligence regarding possible interior revolts against Saddam as well as information pertaining to Americans greasing their palms with money from terrorist nations under the guise of legitimate business. It was like a see saw, going back and forth between the two or three groups planning to topple Saddam Hussein while maintaining their own centuries old hatred for each other, and the western educated informants wearing head scarves and suits carrying briefcases and AK-47's." Bob took no time gaining entrance to his third beer.

"About the time of the change in administration, I got wind of a collapse within the agency." _Clank_. "Everybody wanted a piece of ass, and the more involved one was with field agents abroad, the more likely they were easy targets. See, the greasy hands weren't just in the middle east. Washington had its fair share and they were positioned at the top of the agency, all the way to the White House. Experienced, entrenched field agents were replaced with puppet strung desk jockeys who had never traveled outside of the continental United States. I'll give you one guess when this occurred." Bob looked around at the faces. "No takers? January of 2001, the day after the presidential inauguration and 9 months prior to 9/11. So I got routed back to a desk in the states, my ass and reputation were hung out to dry. Seems a certain newly elected higher-up had run one of those companies that set up a subsidiary with the home office residing in a post office box in the Cayman Islands and done business with those countries including Hussein himself. They did all they could to fry me in the name of good housekeeping, but I had started a paper trail long ago going straight to the agency's legal department. Long story shorter, I could have quit and lost my benefits and pension, but they knew that that would only free me to open my trap about certain things to an extent. Keeping me employed and out of reach for four and maybe 8 years was to their benefit. One month before 9/11 two things happened: our president pulled a majority of the funding used to keep the uranium and assorted nuclear weapons ingredients secured where they were, and I was assigned to this God forsaken wasteland of illiterate, disease ridden, double digit cognitively impaired maggots setting up and maintaining intelligence contacts." Now that produced an uncomfortable air as Othiamba and Toomay loudly stacked their empty bottles in the box of trash. _Crash_.

Carter looked over at Bob. "Are we one of those contacts?"

"Something like that."

"And on that note, I think I will retire," Toomay tersely announced to the late nighters, glaring at Bob who sat nonchalantly tapping his beer bottle against his knee.

"Yep, me too." Maggie hopped down the stairs before returning to Bob one last time. "Oh, just so you know, those tanks _kick ass_. I did a month in Dushanbe at a TB clinic. One of those drunken Soviet generals gave me the keys to his T-72. What a rush." With a final pat to Bob's knee, Maggie was off, Carter quick on her heels.

"Hey, you really drove a Russian tank?"

"Soviet - from the Soviet era, yeah." As Carter stopped to gain control of his raised eyebrows, Maggie found her way into the staff quarters of the clinic. "Paled in comparison to the MI-8 helicopter though. Goodnight Carter."

_**

* * *

I will not permit any man to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him. **-Booker T. Washington 1856-1915, American Black Leader and Educator**

* * *

**_

Luka sat on the edge of the porch dangling his feet watching the children play ball in the setting sun as Carter whispered in his ear. It wasn't intelligible, quite garbled in fact. Turning his head to the left he encouraged Carter to tell him again. Again, Luka faced forward watching the children kicking the ball as the voice mumbled in his ear. From behind he could hear his friends tossing their beer caps in the box. _Clank… clank_.

Placing his weight on the palm of his left hand, he looked down before turning to Carter again for clarification. His hand was resting in a pool of blood and he paused trying to figure out where the warm red liquid was coming from. Again the whisper, and as Luka looked up at his friend he could see the blood pouring from his face and head, but Carter was unaffected. _Clank… clank_.

The seemingly slow motion of the event lent itself to the open field as the children slowed to a surreal pace, the kicked ball hanging in the air far too long before reaching another foot, eventually rolling to a stop below Luka's hanging legs. _Clank… clank_. Turning his head to the left again, the owner of the whispering voice was no longer a bloody Carter, but a maimed Joseph. He was just sitting there, enjoying the sunset and the game as the blood streamed from the ragged and exposed exit wound that dominated the majority of the upper right side of his face.

Before Luka could rise to inquire about the oddity of the situation, the man suddenly whispered in his ear again, this time in a deeper voice. Reflexively he looked one last time to the left only to find Jules laughing in his sick self deprecating satisfaction. Luka could feel the warmth from his shoulder so close to his. So close. The evil tyrant sucked the air between his teeth and laughed one more time before raising his hand in the air. _Click… bang_. A child fell at Luka's feet, his dying hand reaching for the help a frozen Luka was unable to give.

_Click… bang. _

_Click… bang. The children stood in line as Jules ordered another man to shoot each one. _

_Click… bang. _

_Click… bang._

He gasped loudly, imagining he had choked on something, as he sat up in bed grasping at the mosquito netting nearly ripping it from the hook on the ceiling. _I'm not choking… I'm not choking. He's not here. It was a dream_. He held the draped shear material tightly almost as if it were an anchor, not wanting to be dragged back into a dream state anytime soon. Luka had produced more sweat than he had all day and wiped his face on the sleeve of his t-shirt just above the flexed bicep that was the force behind his fist of netting. Rolling out of his moist bed, he nearly fell to the floor in fear before taking a deep breath and willing the strength to return to his legs. It was a short walk out of the building but Luka couldn't get to the fresh air soon enough. Leaning against the wall of the building, he lit a cigarette he had stored away for just such an occasion. A long drag as his shaking hand retreated to his side, and he began to calm.

"What are you doing up?"

Luka startled, then cleared his throat as Carter came around the corner, the hazy dawn sunlight sneaking from behind like a halo. "Can't sleep."

"Yeah, I can see that. You okay?"

"Sure." It wasn't convincing and he knew it. "Just a... just a dream. I don't know where _that _came from. Probably the beer." He half smiled then bit at his lower lip as he tried to cover his sudden anxiety of what, until now, had been fleeting and not quite so evil.

"Uh huh. And you're smoking?"

"Old habits die hard I guess." Luka noticed the stethoscope draped behind Carter's neck and took advantage of the segue. "We have a patient?"

"Just Sue Wiant. I traded a cot for Bob's SUV and took a blood sample over to the hospital in the village."

"By yourself?"

"No. I'm not that stupid. I took a soldier with me."

"Maggie would have sufficed," Luka had composed himself now as he poked fun at Carter.

"Her platelet count was 6,000."

"_Six_? She's a _six_?" Luka immediately thought about how they could possibly save this woman whose healthy platelet count should average around 300,000. Tossing the cigarette butt aside, he joined Carter on his walk to the Midway porch. "What the hell are we gong to do?"

"The only way is to transfuse her with packed platelets. She was a hard stick, but we finally established a line, thanks to a slick pedes nurse in there." Carter gently let Luka in on his secret. "She just finished her first unit. I've got two more waiting."

"Wait a minute. How did you do that? We don't have that here."

"Yeah… well… it's amazing what you can barter with around here. I, ah, gave them a dozen vials of the Cefotetan ADD-vantage packs. There should be more arriving in this morning's deliveries."

"That's it?" Luka knew there had to be more. With Carter, there usually is. "Blood products are pretty rare in these parts."

"Well, actually, I kind of loaned them me."

"You?"

"They're short docs, so I'm going to help out there when I can."

"Good morning bloaks," Sean belted out in a fuzzy morning voice, "Bob here tells me that you went for a spin last night, Carter."

"Yeah, well get me that VetScan unit and I won't have to do that anymore." This time Carter was glad to see Bob as he exited the hanger doors a few steps behind Sean. "Thanks Bob. How did you sleep?"

Bob grumbled a little and cleared his throat while combing his mostly disappeared hair with his fingers. That was about as much of an answer as Carter was going to get.

In through the gates came a semi truck with food, supplies, mail and enough muffler noise to awaken the rest of the camp. Maggie made it out in time to unload the meds and Toomay was excited to get her shipment of canned foods. Bob sat on the porch with his feet on the wobbly railing in his usual non-supervisory role.

Luka checked through what little actual mail had arrived and tossed a large white envelope to Carter with a wink. "Hey, I think our other special request came through."

The breeze picked up tossing Sean's hat into the swirling dust and dirt particles. Running to get ahold of it, he stopped short, turning instead to face the security gate in the distance. At the same time Bob rose to his feet as well, his eyes on the figure who entered the camp alone, on foot.


	7. Chapter 7 High Wind Warning

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**_Chapter Seven_**

The breeze picked up tossing Sean's hat into the swirling dust and dirt particles. Running to get ahold of it, he stopped short, turning instead to face the security gate in the distance. At the same time Bob rose to his feet, his eyes fixated on the figure entering the camp alone. Yet another huge gust of wind forced the camp workers to cover their faces as they were pelted by the debris. The howl created by the swirling wind as it funneled between the steel hangar and the other newer buildings mimicked some of the wild animals heard at night. Caught off guard, Sean had to work hard to blink the dirt from his eyes while hacking his already parched cotton mouth of the muck.

She was the only woman on the continent wearing shorts; khaki shorts with a matching button down shirt, weathered hiking boots and cuffed socks. One end of a paisley blue scarf tied around her neck dipped into her well defined cleavage, the other tussled in the wind occasionally flying back in her face. Underneath an Australian cowboy hat cinched under her chin, was a long mop of tight red curls tied back into a ponytail. She had at least three cameras slung over her shoulders and a large framed hiking backpack strapped to her. While the folks unloading the truck struggled to stay on their feet and see ten feet in front of them, the visitor walked with confident purpose through the blowing dirt.

"Well, tie a knot in me knickers," Sean exclaimed with a look of brilliance in his green eyes, "looks like we got ourselves some window dressing coming through the gates."

Maggie and Luka wandered over to Sean's vantage point, interested in who would be arriving on foot. "Careful Griffin," Maggie cracked over the rumble of the idling truck, "wouldn't want you tripping over that third leg of yours."

The tall woman finally made it to where the group was standing between the hanger and the Midway. With even her face caked with the dry African soil, she was stunning. Rugged… but stunning.

"Hey, I was covering the goings-on in the village last night and heard about your little project here." She spoke with a rough, flat American voice. "Thought I'd see if there was a story in it." She turned her head and unceremoniously spat on the ground. "I'm Colleen Reilly, freelance photojournalist." She wiped her hand on her shorts before holding it out to shake the hand of each person who introduced themselves, lingering with Luka and nearly passing Sean up.

"Well, a nice Irish lass," he blurted out as he vigorously shook her hand. "I'm honored."

The others could almost hear Colleen's eyes roll back into her head as she pulled her hand out of Sean's. "Jesus H. Christ, another homesick Irishman. Don't you people have enough suffering souls at home to tend to?"

Her obtuse words didn't even phase Sean as he continued to stare at her while brushing the dirt from his pants and trying to smooth out his shirt, all in vain.

"Does he drool too?" she mumbled not so quietly.

The truck finally pulled away revealing Carter at the side reviewing paper work with Norman. Colleen dumped her pack by the clinic and approached the two introducing herself to them as well.

"Welcome, nice to meet you." Like the other men in camp, Carter couldn't help but appreciate Colleen's good looks. But unlike Sean, he kept his feelings in check. "And this is Mr. Tyson, he's a financial manager."

Norman sized the woman up as she reached for one of her cameras and started snapping pictures. "You've hired out publicity? I didn't see this on the line item budget, Dr. Carter."

The woman quickly changed out cameras. "Holy shit, you guys don't mess around. You got your own in-house bean counter."

With that Tyson huffed off leaving an embarrassed Carter with the red head.

"Did I say something?" she asked as Carter threw his head back and whacked it with his own hand.

"Nope. It's okay."

The two stood there smiling at each other.

"I guess you've met everybody. How about some breakfast?" The two walked up the steps of the Midway where she stopped and turned towards Bob who had taken in the morning activities from his usual background spot in the peanut gallery.

"Bob," she spouted with a monotone, disinterested voice as she looked him in the eyes.

"Reilly." Bob leaned his chair back on two legs, teetering back and forth. Lighting his first cigarette of the morning he pulled his cap back over his tired and hung over eyes, purposely ignoring the guest.

Carter stepped back through the open door. "You two know each other?" he asked her quietly.

"Bob and I crossed paths in the Middle East _years _ago."

"That answers one question," Carter muttered to himself. "At least we know '_Bob_' is his real name."

"Uh-huh, sort of." Colleen quickly lost interest as she held the screen door for Carter. "It's his middle name. Come on. Let's see what kind of grub you guys cook up."

The door smacked shut on Sean's gaping mouthed face as he rushed to get into the Midway with Carter and Colleen. "Boy, she's something," he exclaimed with bravado as he opened the door.

"She's something alright," Bob commented from under his hat.

"Dr. Kovac, can I have a word with you?" Todd caught up with Luka on the porch.

"Sure. Why don't we sit down out here." The two sat on the top step below Bob's propped up feet. "What can I do for you?"

"Um, I don't really know how to… like, I don't think I, um…" The young man stumbled through his words while he nervously played with the buttons on his shirt.

"Is this about Dr. Carter?" Luka surmised.

"Um, yeah. I don't really know how to act around him. He doesn't like me much and Sean told me I had to work with him. I mean, no matter what I do it's wrong. And… and he makes me so nervous. I'm just a bumbling idiot. So… so… I just don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"Maybe you're trying too hard. Hmm?" Luka looked at the boy's face for a sign of understanding. "Dr. Carter really is an awfully good person. Did you know that the money for this camp, for the most part, is coming from him and his family's foundation?" Todd shook his head in surprise. "Talk to him, Todd. Ask him questions. Ask about his experiences, about his life growing up. I bet you'll see you have more in common than you thought."

Luka sat at the "family" table across from Carter and Colleen who were in deep discussion about the camp. Across the room sat Todd by himself, away from the rest of the diners.

"You should really talk to him. He's a nice kid," Luka said as he sat with his breakfast plate.

Carter sagged his head down almost into his food as he contemplated having a meaningful conversation with Todd Casey. "Here we were, learning about one another over a lovely meal and you had to interrupt with that bit of wisdom?" He was only half joking with Luka.

"Look at him." Luka pointed over Carter's shoulder with his fork. "He has such an empty look in his eyes." Carter finally turned around on the bench, eyeing Todd. "The other kids are nice enough, but he just doesn't fit in."

"There's probably good reason for it."

"Come on, Carter. He's not going anywhere. You might as well try to put some of that Carter polish on him."

"Yeesh, like I'm not already tarnished." Carter sighed a couple times, wiped his face with a napkin and waved Todd over to the table. "Come on Todd. Dr. Kovac's hot air has opened up a spot over here."

The awkward young man looked around the room to see if Carter was talking to another Todd, then with great reserve, picked up his plate and moved to '_the' _table where the people in the know sat.

"Todd Casey, this is Colleen Reilly. She's thinking of taking some pictures of the camp," Carter half heartedly worked in between his final bites.

"C.J. Reilly," Todd shook her hand over the food, "I know. Pullitzer Prize winning photojournalist. I studied some of your work for a communications class at Syracuse, Ms. Reilly. Wonderful stuff."

Carter nearly choked on his food as he was trumped by his tag-a-long pain in the ass.

"Well, I'm flattered Todd. And it's just Colleen." She worked the compliment like a paste of liniment: slow and steady. "How nice to know that my work is being put to such good use."

"Uh-huh." Bob had saddled up to the table. "Why don't you put yourself to good use here and work some of that coffee down this way, Reilly?" Colleen ignored Bob who eventually stood up and reached across her to get the pot. "What's in the envelope, Tut?"

Carter had forgotten about the large white envelope that had arrived in the mail earlier. "Oh, well it's top secret. I'm sure you understand, don't you?" Carter pushed it across the table to Luka. "You need this more than I do. I'm pretty sure there was never a Croatian version." The two exchanged mischievously humorous looks as Luka took the mysterious envelope and put it with a couple other mail items he had picked up for the clinic.

"Croatian, eh?" Colleen spoke. Then without a beat - "I love smoking a good Croatian cigar."

Luka was right in the middle of a sip of his coffee and quite literally gagged at Colleen's quip, spilling some of the hot liquid on the table. Bob, too, smiled just a little but managed to cover it with his hand.

"What?" Carter asked, out of the loop. "Luka, are you blushing?"

"Thanks for the meal. I'm going to go talk with the kids over there." Colleen stood and gathered all of her equipment."

"Someone want to clue me in here?" Carter almost begged.

"Just a Croatian inside joke," Luka mumbled, still a bit flustered.

The sound of a cell phone ringing - something none of the workers there had heard in weeks - caught everyone's attention as heads swiveled to find out who had a phone that actually got reception. The eyes eventually fell on young Todd who pulled a small phone from a protector velcroed to his belt. Pressing a button to answer it, he barely said two words before ending the call and returning the phone to its previous location on his hip.

"Wrong number?" Luka asked facetiously.

"Um, no. My…," Todd shifted in his seat nervously, "… my mother."

"Nobody else gets reception here. Are you telling me you do?" Sean asked wondering where he too could get a phone like that.

"Well, no. Actually I can't hear her, and she barely hears me, but just answering it makes her feel better, I guess." He kept his eyes down at his empty breakfast plate as he explained this bit of personal and perhaps embarrassing information.

Toomay broke the silence and almost scolded those who were silently laughing at the kid. "I think it is wonderful that you let your mother check up on you." She started clearing plates and leaned down to give Todd a hug around his shoulders. "You are a good son."

"By the way, Bob," Carter worked this one in carefully, "I hear that '_Bob' _is actually your middle name."

"Been on a fact finding mission Dr. Carter?"

"Yeah, how about sharing your first name with us?" Luka put his laced fingers in back of his head as he leaned his chair back on two legs a la Bob.

"Quit while you're ahead, Einstein." Bob put down his cup and rose to leave, stealing one last look at Colleen who had wandered back to join the table. "Been interesting, but I've got real work to do."

"And what would that be, Bob?" Carter's boyish smile matched Luka's as he enjoyed ribbing the close mouthed agent.

"Yeah, well Carter, I understand you have secrets of your own."

"Oooooh." The two doctors laughed at Bob as they finished their coffee.

"If you're leaving camp, can I catch me a ride?" Sean asked. "I need to go pick up a Land Rover waiting for me in Gulu."

"Ooh," Luka raised his eyebrows, "Sean's getting some wheels."

"Yeah, sure. But only if you bring Lurch over there with you. I don't want you driving back alone."

"Bob, you know his name is Othiamba," Carter gave him hoping Bob would respect the man's name.

"Hey, big boy," Bob shouted to the end of the table, "do you mind if I call you Lurch?"

"No sir," Othiamba answered, "not at all."

"There. See?" Putting his hat back on, Bob left with Sean and Othiamba.

"Hey," Maggie had been standing in the doorway listening, "you two frat boys done telling dirty jokes? 'Cause I'm missing a 12-pack of Cefotetan ADD-vantage."

"Yeah," Carter looked up at Maggie who was standing above him with an inventory check list. "I sort of borrowed it last night. Actually, traded it for some platelets for the Wiant woman. Inventory is bound to be off for a while as we get into a routine." He could tell that Maggie was puzzled over their seeming lack of control and concern for the meds, but knowing Maggie, she'd settle in soon enough.

"Don't get too anxious over stuff like that," Luka added. "I'll do the worrying if things aren't accounted for right away. It takes time."

"Yeah, right."

Colleen rested her hand on Carter's arm as they talked more about the camp, ignoring Luka and Maggie who had little enough to exchange in the best of situations. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, Maggie feigned interest in the discussion as she wondered what Bob meant when he said that Carter had secrets. He was a few years older than when she last worked with him in Chicago, certainly more refined as a doctor. But there was something about him that wasn't there before. Something reserved, something… she just couldn't put her finger on it.

"…it's a date, then. I'll see you later, John." Colleen rose and joined the college students getting up from their table.

Maggie lost her train of thought as she pointed to Colleen at the other end of the room. "Miss Universe over there get her 'Save the World' piece?"

The college students were enjoying their moment in the spotlight as the well known journalist took pictures and chatted with them.

"What. Are you jealous?" Luka snatched a disgusted look from Maggie as he looked at both Colleen and then Carter.

"Of her?" Maggie snorted. "Hardly. Look we have a few patients. We should round before the busses get here with the new refugees." Maggie was glad to get up and exit through the front door as Colleen went out the back with the students, leaving Carter and Luka there with a reluctant Todd.

"Alright Todd. Let's see how you do in the clinic. You can help me there today. With your science background and your father being a doctor, it shouldn't be all foreign to you."

"Oh, I… I… don't do well around blood."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Carter mumbled. "It's not all about blood. You'll be okay. Go on over and introduce yourself to the nurses. We'll be over soon."

Luka grinned at Carter and managed a couple chuckles as they were left on their own.

"What?" Carter was lost with Luka's impish look.

"_John_? A date?"

"Oh no. Don't go there. I am not…"

"Are you telling me you're not interested in her? That she's not drop dead gorgeous?"

"I didn't say that." As Carter back peddled, he failed to find the right words and shook his head at an amused Luka. "Uh-uh. No, Luka, not… don't…" Carter realized that he wasn't going to win and stood to leave. "Come on. Work to do. Chop chop."

"You bet, _John_," Luka kidded him, "it's a date."

* * *

The doctors started with Mrs. Wiant who luckily had not experienced any immediate reactions to the platelet transfusions. The staff had to wear protective gowns into her makeshift isolation bed since the steroids were slowly damaging her immunities. 

"We'll get another sample over to the hospital later today and if your count is over 30,000 we're going to transport you to Kampala and then back to the states," Maggie explained. "There are too many things here you've never been exposed to before and your compromised immunity can't fight off some of these tropical diseases. How are you otherwise?"

"Well, aside from the fact that you won't let me brush my hair or teeth, and I feel like I've been run over by a truck, not too bad." The woman was dealing with bruises all over her body and the places they tried to get her large bore IV established had added to her discomfort.

"Well it's good to see that your sense of humor wasn't affected." Maggie patted the woman's hand.

"Thank you, Dr. Carter," her eyes wandered above Maggie to the other two doctors, "for putting up with me most of the night."

"Not a problem. I'll see you later." The doctors exited the area and headed to the next patient, stopping first to shed their protective layers.

"You were with her all night?" Maggie asked him. "Aren't you tired."

"Yeah, well I'll catch a nap here and there."

"Okay, Dr. Carter. I'm ready." Todd had finally mastered the sterile gown, however the exam gloves covered only four of his ten fingers, the other six lost inside the tangled mess of latex.

"Oh. Well, we're done with Mrs. Wiant now. You can get that stuff off." The three left Todd in the middle of the clinic struggling just as hard to de-gown as he had initially to get the stuff on.

"Gee Carter," Maggie chided him on their way to the next patient, "I see Benton had an effect on you after all."

Two buses and one flat bed farm truck arrived a few hours later with the first group of refugees. These people were not only separated from their Congolese homeland, but they had sought out refuge in another camp to the north only to find that the Sudanese who had occupied the camp ostracized them. They had their few rations and tarps used for shelter stolen and when the LRA rebels made visits to the camp looking for women and children to kidnap and enslave, the Sudanese were more than willing to point in their direction to save their own asses. Now they were considered _displaced refugees_, kind of like a double negative. Finally after a year and several news pieces, the Ugandan government shifted them to the new Carter Foundation/Alliance camp now known as the _Pakwach Congolese Refugee Camp _- or PCRC.

The three hundred and thirty-five mostly women, children and elderly were hungry, tired, disheveled and untrusting. Lining up at the hangar doors, they said little and expected less as they were processed one family at a time. Even the children made few sounds if any as they endured several vaccinations and a physical exam. As Luka and Carter examined the children and men, Maggie began what would become a non-stop chore of providing gynecological care to the women and even some of the female children. Although they had become accustomed to being raped, the unfamiliarity of a pelvic exam was extremely frightening to most. It took a calm Maggie and a couple of nurses to interpret and hold the patients' hands just to get through it. Most suffered from sexually transmitted diseases and all were tested for HIV, though the results were days away. None of the pregnancies were the result of marital sex and even sadder were the very young girls who now had physical injuries to their reproductive and sex organs from the abuse.

By late in the day the three exhausted doctors took a break in the back office. The humor of the morning long since gone, they sat and stared through the large glass windows out into the treatment area where the last of the refugees were being processed.

"It's like a big old drive-in movie," Maggie said as she sat with her tired hands in her lap, head hung low and eyes scanning the activity silenced by the glass between them.

"What?" Luka asked.

"A horror movie. All right out there in front of us. Except we don't get to drive home to suburbia after the credits."

Carter picked his chair up and put it in back of Maggie, straddling it. He gently laid his hands on her shoulders and began to massage them. "Remember back at County when things got real insane we would find an empty space and give each other a massage?"

Luka stood back taking in the rekindled years-old friendship, only slightly envious feeling like the third wheel.

"Well there was that one time," Maggie's eyes were closed now as she started to let go, "when Weaver busted into the supply closet during one of our relaxation therapies."

"Oh… Oh yeah. And she had a slew of new students with her on the Great Weaver-Tour," Carter remembered. "It was hotter than piss that day. We took our lab coats and shirts off. I was down to an undershirt and I think you had on a tank top. You'd restrained a wacked out OD earlier and put out your back."

"I was up against the wall and you were working intensely on a knot in my lower lumbar region," Maggie was laughing hard now as she retold the story. "I mean you were going to town. Weaver walked right in on us and nearly tripped over her own cane trying to get out."

"Yeah, but not before lecturing us about having sex in the workplace. I don't think she realized…"

"… no I'm sure she didn't," Maggie finished for Carter. "Come on, take your shirt off and I'll return the favor." She had stood up and was more than willing to switch places. "You've been favoring your back an awful lot."

"Ah," Carter contemplated the way to answer her, not the answer itself. "Ah… no. I don't think so." He stood from his chair and folded his arms in front of him almost without thinking.

Luka picked up Carter's uneasiness and stepped up. "Sounds like you two got off easy. She must have hardened by the time Malucci came around."

"Who's that?"

"Dave Malucci, oh God." Carter sat on the desk next to the beaten up CD player. "He was a wild child resident and definitely not a fan of Weaver's. She caught him in the act in one of the rigs with an EMT. Fired his ass right there."

"But not before he got in the last word," Luka grinned, "or words, that is. Nazi dyke, I believe."

Maggie smirked at the comment and started to say something to Luka but was stopped short.

"Doctors, If you'll excuse me, I have work to do," Norman announced as he entered the office, quickly sitting at Carter's desk. From his satchel he pulled out his ledger books, a bundle of sharpened pencils all the same length, a travel clock which he opened and placed in front of him and three CD's - the first of which he put into the player. After carefully lining up his materials on the desktop, then lining them up again, he pressed the 'play' button and opened his first ledger. Unmistakably the doctors were subjected to - opera.

* * *

Life at the PCRC plugged away over the next couple of weeks with a steady stream of refugees arriving, a few leaving and the staff working tirelessly. Bob was in and out with not much fanfare. Colleen, too, came and went as her assignments pulled her away, although when she arrived the attention she garnered from the staff and the refugees was much different than with Bob. Her biggest crowd pleaser among the Congolese was a Polaroid camera and when time and film availability allowed she took pictures of the children for their mothers. One child brought her elderly grandfather to Colleen and asked that his picture be taken instead of hers. The seasoned man, probably with only months left on earth, held onto that picture of the stranger he had never seen before and showed it to everyone who gave him a minute almost as though looking for confirmation that the person in the picture was indeed him. 

Poor Todd trudged on following Carter around and doing whatever odd jobs were thrown his way. In the clinic he helped where he could, but the staff could only tolerate so many bed pans and mop buckets crashing to the floor. The safest job he had thus far had been recording medical findings during exams. The large index cards had exam stickers on them indicating all of the areas of the body the doctors and nurses examined. Checking them off and making notations as they were dictated to him was easy enough, but keeping the cards orderly and away from the large fans seemed to be quite a difficult task. With Carter covering nights occasionally at the village hospital and working daily at the clinic as well as handling the overall operation of the camp, his patience and willingness to hold Todd's left hand while the right was waiting for his mother's call, was waning. Luka tried his best to encourage the young man and find busy work for him when Carter wasn't around, but Todd became more and more disinterested and lonely.

Maggie and Carter spent as much free time together as possible talking about County and the people who had moved through there. Interesting cases, career choices and even family were brought up time and time again. Colleen hung around the clinic garnering friendships with Carter and Luka. After a prolonged period of time spent outside of the states, she appreciated the company. They enjoyed her stories of the war torn countries, developing nations and political turmoil she had covered. There was no mistaking that they also respected her outspoken feminine wiles and endured ribbing from Maggie who felt the need to point out that Colleen was shopping around for someone else's bed to sleep in besides her own - an opinion neither one of them supported publicly, at least.

It was another hot, dry and dusty late afternoon as the drought continued its assault in Northern Uganda. With the nursing staff at a vaccination clinic in a nearby town, Carter was using the quiet time in the office trying to draft a letter to attach to a grant application the Foundation's grant writer had forwarded to him. He was stuck on one particular thought and couldn't seem to get past it.

_With more than 22 million African women becoming pregnant each year in malaria endemic areas, the simple two-dose treatment of sulfadoxine-pyrimethamine would prevent effects of the disease that cause low birth weight, birth defects and fetal death. However, _

Carter drew a blank as he struggled to stay focused, then started back at the beginning.

_With more than 22 million African women becoming pregnant each year in malaria endemic areas, the simple two dose treatment of sulfadoxine-pyrimethamine would prevent effects of the disease that cause low birth weight, birth defects and fetal death. However, Ridi, Pagliaccio, sul tuo amore infranto. Ridi del duol che t'avvelena il cor._

Carter pushed his chair back and thunked his head on the small table. The same CD Norman listened to yesterday and the day before was now snaking its way into Carter's mind as the exasperating man sat at his desk - Carter's desk - mindlessly conducting the opera with a pencil.

"Sometimes I find a Thesaurus helps," Luka mentioned as he walked into the office. "Not the wimpy one on the computer, but the original hardcover." Leaning over Carter's shoulder, he read the words. "… low birth weight, birth defects and fetal death. However, laugh, you clown, at your broken love. Laugh at the pain which poisons your heart." Luka sat down in the chair next to Carter. "Pagliacci again?"

Carter thunked his head one more time in the affirmative.

"I've got something that might help." Luka held his hand out to Carter. "Toomay went into the village today and scored big."

"Eggs?" Carter puzzled.

"_Hard boiled_ eggs," Luka replied with a grin and a wink. "I thought perhaps a flatus event might take care of the situation."

Taking the egg, Carter chuckled loudly knowing that Norman didn't know the story about his grandfather and opera he had told Luka about while they were holed up in the hut. "You're evil," he told Luka while rolling his egg on the desk in order to peel it.

"I know," Luka was ahead of Carter, his egg half gone already. "So, tell me about you and that tall drink of water."

"Colleen? What about her?"

"You know," Luka nodded and wobbled his head like Carter should understand his thoughts. "Is it going anywhere?"

"Ha! No. I, ah, am not interested in getting involved with her." Carter and Luka gave each other looks like only two men can who know that if they were living and working in another normal environment they would be pitting their testosterone against each other to win over the chick.

"Okay," Luka said unconvinced, "how about Maggie? You two have spent a lot of time together, which does nothing for me by the way."

Carter laughed as he tossed the bits of egg shell into the garbage can. "Maggie and I have some professional history together, which we are just getting caught up on. I'm really not her type anyway."

Just then both Colleen and Maggie came through the door, each taking their hands out of their pockets bearing gifts.

"Somebody in here ask for eggs?" Colleen said loudly enough for Norman to hear. The inside joke had obviously been exposed as Carter and Luka could no longer contain themselves and nearly rolled on the floor in laughter. The girls tapped their eggs on the desk top in front of Norman and peeled the shell away all with the controlled look of a comedy duo sidekick while the two doctors reveled in their evil humor.

The lightness in the air was suddenly broken by the reverberation of an explosion in the not so far off. Jumping to their feet, the four waited, almost frozen in place, for the ultimate screams of panic and ensuing chaos.


	8. Chapter 8 Red Hair with a Curl

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Eight  
**

The lightness in the air was suddenly broken by the reverberation of an explosion in the not so far off. Jumping to their feet, the four waited, almost frozen in place, for the ultimate screams of panic and ensuing chaos.

"Turn it off," Carter ordered Norman who remained in his seat, the look of fright stalling his ability to make a move. "_Turn it **off!" **_Carter walked over to the wall and yanked the CD player's power chord from the outlet. Luka opened the door of the office and stared straight down the center of the building at the two large swinging doors anticipating the horrors of war he hadn't seen since… since…

Several soldiers barged in carrying one of their own, blood dripping from one end and the poor man's screams from the other resonating throughout the empty building.

"He stepped on an old land mine," Othiamba yelled out, "I put a tourniquet on his leg."

The three doctors rushed out into the clinic area and directed the men to put the wounded soldier on a treatment table where they started cutting off his clothes and assessing his condition.

"I've got a traumatic amputation…," Luka had to step back to make heads or tales of the mutilated body before him. "… above the knee."

"Open tib-fib on the right," Carter was stripping the clothing away from the ankle up, "and soft tissue injuries to the buttocks and groin area."

"Maggie?" Luka was working to clamp off the bleeders on what was left of the man's left leg.

"Airway is clear, no external injury to the torso. Neck is clear… I think." No x-ray, no CT, no MRI, no labs. Diagnostic medicine was a gamble and the three doctors were playing blind. "What's your name?" She asked him while looking in his eyes and ears.

"Jabari," he whispered in a pained voice as he grabbed onto Maggie's wrist. "Jabari Mulefu. Please… _please_…" The patient became agitated, grabbing at Maggie in desperation and pain.

"Come on Maggie," Luka shouted at her as he struggled to gain control of the bleeding, "get two peripheral lines started."

The doctors strained to manage the care the patient needed without extra hands and proper equipment. While Maggie worked to get IV's in both arms, Luka and Carter continued their haphazard attempt to clamp and tie off the bleeders in the stump of the left leg. Carter put his head up long enough to scan the room for able bodied people to step in.

"Paulette, I need you to get three of the surgical packs, the big ones." The teenaged girl who so wanted to become a doctor was obviously shaken, but didn't hesitate to help out. "You've put them together, they're next to the autoclave. Bring them here, then stand next to his head and talk to him. Can you do that?" Paulette scurried around gathering what they needed before returning and gently stroking the man's face, calming him.

"Jabari?" Paulette's voice was sweet as she bent down and spoke into his ear. "Your name means 'brave' and 'fearless'." He took a deep breath as a tear rolled down past his temple onto the sheet. As Carter deftly inserted the foley catheter into the man's penis he let out another gasp and reached up to Paulette. "You must be a brave man to be a soldier - to take care of us." It was an easy task for Jabari to listen to the innocent young girl whose hands cupped his face from behind. "But I think it would be okay to be a little afraid. You can be brave _and _afraid. But these doctors are the best in the whole world."

"We need meds, Maggie," Luka continued. "Go back and see what you can find. IV antibiotics, pain meds, anesthetics, antibiotic flush. And lots of betadine." Maggie ran to the back of the clinic, not too happy at being relegated to nursing duties.

"Where's that blood coming from?" Carter moved back to the man's right side and lifted up the sheet that covered the remaining fractured leg where he found that the site of the protruding bones was oozing once again. "_Shit_, this needs pressure. I've got a pulse and we've got to find some way of reducing this in traction."

"Carter, I need you on this leg **now**," Luka shouted knowing that without blood for transfusions they had to work fast.

"Todd. _Todd_, over here," Carter called out. "Come on, I need your help."

Todd's apprehension steered his body backwards one step for every two he took forward. One glare from Carter and he fought his fear and broke into a run, eventually coming to a crash as his feet slipped in a pool of blood on the floor, his cell phone flying yards away from him landing next to the doctors. To his credit he quickly regained his vertical hold and scurried to Carter's side.

"Put your hand here." Carter roughly put the boy's hand on top of a large stack of surgical gauze pads covering the hole in the man's leg. "Now press down hard and keep it there."

With the force of pressure from his hand, Todd could feel the edges of the snapped bones move. Jabari screamed and jolted in pain as his leg was pushed down causing Todd to release his hand and step back. He was shaking, breathing hard and sweat beaded up on his face.

Maggie had returned and was pouring the betadine over the wounds as Luka and Carter each took turns stepping away to gown and glove for the remainder of the procedure. Without general anesthesia, she used whatever local she could find, although she knew it wouldn't be near enough to control the onslought of pain.

"Get back there Todd," Carter spoke out. "You have to control the bleeding."

Todd was frozen as he took in the action around him. All too much for the bookworm who was afraid of blood. "I… I… can't…" His face contorted as he fought to keep the vomit from rising and the tears from flowing. Then the unmistakable ring as Todd's phone chattered on the floor.

Carter kicked the phone across the floor. "Get him out of here," he barked at Sean.

Sean put his arm around Todd, guiding him away from the trauma scene. "He's just a kid."

"_He doesn't belong here_."

"**_Carter_**!" Luka's patience crumbled. "You're exhausted, we don't entirely know what we're going to do here. But don't take it out on _him_." The two looked through each other as they continued to do a rough surgical repair on the man's stump.

"Paulette, can you come down here and do what Todd was doing?" Luka's gentle voice and eyes guided her to the foot of the bed where she carefully placed her two small hands on the stack of gauze. Pressing down, she looked to Luka when the man started to move around in pain.

"You have to press down harder," he told her as quietly as he could, but as she did so Jabari let out a scream as the bone fragments scraped against the nerve endings in his open wound. Paulette flinched but didn't move.

Maggie returned with another armful of supplies. "Only one vial of morphine and not very much in terms of IV antibiotics."

"That's impossible," Luka looked at her, "there was a tray of morphine we got last week from Gulu. And we should have plenty of antibiotics." Luka looked back at Carter who was into his third package of suture material. "Have you been trading again?"

"No. It has to be there. Look again, Maggie."

Maggie gave Jabari some morphine through his IV and the man started to relax. "We've got what we need for now, except a nurse," Maggie mumbled the second part hoping the two male doctors would catch on. "Let me take a look at what's left of this leg." With Paulette's help, Maggie irrigated the area and inspected the site. "He's still got a distal pulse. With traction and rods this leg could be saved."

"They don't have anyone but a glorified GP in Gulu who would just amputate it anyway and not very well at that," Carter contemplated. "Othiamba, you and Sean get on the satellite phone to the hospital in Kampala. Ask if they have an orthopedic surgeon who has the ability and equipment to do _external fixation_."

"What are you thinking," Maggie asked.

"This guy won't have any life here with no legs. The right one can be saved with pins and rods which we don't have here. And by the time we get him to Kampala the window of opportunity to close that wound and stabilize the bones internally without risk of infection will be long gone. But, if they use external fixation, they can treat infection locally."

"Let's just get him there anyway," Maggie said.

"No." Luka caught on. "Carter's right. If we send him there without knowing if they can use external fixation and they can't, they'll probably just use pins, plates and rods. He's bound to get an infection which will travel straight through the rod which is driven up the length of the bone. He'll die slowly."

"And if they don't have the external fixators?" Maggie asked knowing the answer.

Both men worked quickly and methodically as they tied off the bleeders, neither wanting to answer Maggie's question very loudly. Finally Carter looked at Jabari's face, then back at Maggie before quietly giving her the worst case scenario. "Then we take him to Gulu."

By the time they had moved onto the right leg and started cleaning and suturing the soft tissue injuries, Sean had come back into the treatment area. "Kampala's surgeons do perform external fixation. A military medivac chopper from Lira is on its way. Should be here in 30 minutes."

Having stopped the bleeding in the amputated left leg and the skin flaps sewn shut around some drains, the right leg wound was irrigated, packed and splinted. The chopper had landed with its medical crew and the wounded soldier loaded into the bus from the rear for transport to the airfield.

"Jabari, we're going to fly you to Kampala where they will set your leg using something called external fixation," Luka explained on their short but bumpy ride. "Screws will be inserted through the bones above and below the fractures. Then a device will be placed outside of your leg and attached to the screws. This way the doctors can treat any infection to this large open wound locally without much fear of it getting to your healing bones."

"Will I walk again?" the patient asked pessimistically not really understanding the doctor's explanation.

Luka told him the truth. "With a prosthesis in place of your left leg I think you'll do fine. But there's always a chance of complications and your right leg may not be able to be saved. But I'm feeling good about it, and so should you."

As Jabari was loaded into the chopper he held his hand out and took hold of Maggie. "Thank you. And thank the little girl for me."

Othiamba drove the bus back to the camp area while Maggie and Luka opted for the more comfortable stroll.

"Hey Kovac, I just want you to know that I am capable of handling more than nursing duties during a trauma."

"I'm sure you are. Carter says that you are a top notch doctor. However, I'm also sure that it's been a long time since you ran a trauma like that." Luka paused expecting Maggie to have something poignant to say about that. Surprisingly enough to him, she just listened. "We didn't mean to insinuate anything but you know very well that without the nurses here that stuff had to be done. Carter and I work very well together - we kind of read each other during traumas. We didn't have time to sit down and hand out duties."

With the chopper back in the air and the excitement over, the children took back their fields getting in one last game. An errant ball landed in front of Luka who took the chance to show off his rusty soccer skills and dribbled it back onto the field where he passed it off to Mbuto. The children cheered for Dr. Luka as he raised his arms in mock victory. Leaving the field to join a smiling Maggie - a rarity - he gave Joseph a high five.

"It's amazing," Maggie said as she looked Luka up and down.

"What?"

"Those kids. You are absolutely covered in blood and it didn't even phase them. A hell of a way to grow up." The two walked further in silence before Maggie asked what was really on her mind. "What was with Carter?"

"What do you mean?"

"During the trauma. What got him all on edge?"

Luka shrugged his shoulders. "He's tired. He has a lot on his mind."

"He was all over that goofy college kid. Almost mean spirited." She didn't even want to think that. "I worked with him for a couple years and I know him and he's not like that."

"He can be." Luka was uncomfortable beating around the bush with her. "Look Maggie, it's been five years since you've seen him. Things happen and people change. I'm sure you have too. You've spent a lot of time with him since you got here. Has he talked much about those five years?"

"No. Not really. Why?"

Luka stuffed his bloodied hands in his pants pockets and focused downward as they got back into camp. "Nothing. We really shouldn't be talking about him behind his back."

_**

* * *

**__**To achieve anything in this game, you must be prepared to dabble on the boundary of disaster** -Stirling Moss 1929-, British Motor Racing Driver  
**

* * *

**_

Once Jabari was taken from the clinic the sudden silence was almost shocking. Carter stood in the middle and turned around in a circle looking at the chaos that that one trauma had created and left behind. Clamps, hemostats, needle drivers, suture material, gauze pads and rolls - all strewn over the floor. The discarded wrappers for the IV lines and fluids, rolls of partially used tape, empty vials and used syringes - and Jabari's clothes. All blood soaked. Removing his surgical gown and gloves he found just as much dried blood on his clothes and hands having had no time to get protective gear on when the patient first arrived. Carter snickered to himself at how much panic everyone would have been in back in Chicago had this much blood come into contact with a doctor, yet the HIV rate in Africa far surpassed that of home.

"You docs are damn good."

Carter wasn't even phased by the surprise voice in the corner sitting at the intake nurse's desk. "So are you, Bob. You are the best lurker I know. _By far_."

"Don't want to get in the way."

"You aren't. We're kind of getting used to you." The two traded very faint, but very reluctant smiles.

"Did he get off okay?" The doors swung open sneaking shards of sunlight into the building. "The bus took a tear across the camp." Sean stepped over blood drenched rags on the floor, having had years of exposure to scenes worse than this - but not much.

"He has a chance."

"It's a good thing he's military. I'm not sure we would have gotten air transport if he weren't." Sean took out a piece of paper and handed it to Carter. "While you were working in here, we got a delivery of supplies. This came for us from the office in Kampala."

Carter read the letter addressed to both him and Sean from the Ugandan government regarding the VetScan blood chemistry machine. Under no circumstances would they approve the transport of such a valuable piece of medical equipment along the Karuma/Pakwach corridor by land or air.

"But the Gates Foundation said they would pay for it. Hell, I'd pay for it out of my own pocket." Carter was livid. "What more do we have to do?"

"I was afraid this would happen. I'm sorry John." Sean gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"But why not even by chopper? They certainly didn't mind giving Luka and me the four diamond tour."

"The government knows that nothing flies around up there without someone down here knowing about it," Bob commented as he stepped into the conversation. "If it's something of value and it can be salvaged from a wreck, they won't hesitate to shoot it down. This country is flourishing certainly beyond it's previous war torn dictatorship. But those choppers and the people who fly them are valuable to the military. Your blood machine isn't."

Sean walked back to the office and turned to leave the heavy news reporting to Carter. "Would you tell Maggie and Luka for me when you see them?"

"I'll, ah, I'll tell them after dinner." Yet another roadblock.

After washing his hands and arms, Carter grabbed some fresh scrubs and headed outside to the shower area. Even a cold shower had its appeal. In the distance he saw the lights of the military chopper on the airfield and stopped to gaze that way getting one last look at his patient, even though he was really too far off to actually see. He grimaced as the muscles of his lower back stiffened making him arch his back in response. Something he had gotten use to, though it had regressed a bit since the Congo. _Great, I'm getting old. What's next?_

Carter stretched his arms over his head as he turned to go to the showers. Out of the corner of his eye he spied a figure sitting on the ground against the side of the Midway in the shadows of the setting sun.

"You okay?" he asked, looking down on Todd.

With his knees to his chest, the red of the late day sun bearing down on his face, Todd kept his eyes closed wanting to just shut down. He didn't want to answer, he couldn't. Carter turned around, but before he could get far his inner voice guided him back to the young man where he slid his back down the side of the building joining him on the ground.

"What is it that scares you most?" Carter asked as Todd continued his silence. "Is it the blood? The faces?" No reaction. "The pain?" He made a measure of the frightened boy beside him. "Is it failure?"

Todd's head emerged from between his knees as Carter mentioned the 'F' word.

"Ah, well I can understand that."

Todd was stunned both by Carter's own admission of weakness and the shear fact that he was talking to him. "Failure? But you're a Carter."

"So?" Carter chuckled. "The fear of failure has no boundaries and doesn't discriminate between social class." Carter's thoughts quickly went to his own family. "So what are you afraid of failing?"

"More like who."

"Oh. I see." He looked at Todd to see if he could get a rise out of the closed up kid. "What is it your father wants you to do that you don't want to do?"

"How did you know?"

"We're not that different, Todd."

"He wants me to be a doctor. That's why I'm here." Taking off his cap, he fiddled with the visor bending it back and forth. "He thinks that with my undergraduate degree I'm a shoe-in for med school. When I told him what I wanted to do, he blew up. Said that I needed to experience the real world. That maybe if I looked tragedy and adversity in the face I'd be a stronger person. It's such bull shit. That kind of stuff just doesn't happen."

Carter leaned his head back on the wall of the building as he listened to Todd's rant. It was the first time he had heard more than three well spoken words from the kid at one time. "Well, I can't speak for your father and you certainly have to learn from your own experiences, not others'. But I can tell you that you _do _learn from adversity and it _can _change you. Only, you decide _how _it changes you."

"Yeah, right," Todd mumbled dismissively. "I don't know how it could get any worse than this. I never imagined hell, but I'm close to thinking this is it."

"First of all, this place - the whole picture - isn't about you, Todd." Carter pointed in the direction of the field with all of the tents erected. "It's about them. They know a hell I doubt you will ever know. And for the record, it _can _get a lot worse than this. I think when you get back home you'll see that the decisions you have to make there will be a whole lot easier."

"I bet you always wanted to be a doctor."

"Yep, I did. But it's not what my family wanted me to do." This got Todd's attention. "They fought it. My dad wanted me to get my MBA at the Wharton School. I was the appointed Carter child expected to take over the reigns of the family empire. By the time I had graduated from med school, they stopped trying to change my mind. Instead they pushed me to choose Cardiology as a specialty, not the lowly unglorified field of emergency medicine."

"Are you still fighting them on that?"

"No. Time and age, and events, change how you see things, especially your loved ones. As much as you don't like being here, I think it's a good thing that you spend this time away from your parents. They tend to appreciate you more when you're not there." Carter noticed Todd's phone on the ground and picked it up, wiping the dried blood from it with the only unsoiled corner of his shirt. "How's the phone? Did I break it?"

"No. I guess it's fine." Todd sneaked a little smile. "Embarrassing, but fine."

"Well, at least your mother cares enough to want to hear your voice. Mine - I hardly know her. Saw her between her extended trips around the world and my boarding school semesters if I was lucky."

The awkward silence was interrupted by the returning bus as it rambled by. Someone was playing music nearby and diner's voices wafted through the window of the Midway above them.

Carter smiled first before he asked the next question, remembering a conversation he had with Luka back in the Congo. "Todd, what did you dream about when you were a kid?" The puzzled look on Todd's face didn't help as Carter tried to get him to talk more. "What is it you dreamed about doing?"

"I played soccer. First summer league, then the travel team. I even played varsity." He stretched his legs out and opened up at the mention of soccer. "It's the only thing I was good at outside of the classroom. I used to want to grow real long hair and play soccer in some foreign country where it was appreciated."

"Well, I can't help you with the first part, but for a lot of the kids here soccer is their only form of escape, and they need a mentor."

"Oh no." Todd waved his hand as he tried to repel the thought of being alone with a group of children." I… I, uh, don't relate well to kids. I don't know how to talk to them."

"You don't have to do much talking. Just listen and play the game. Tomorrow go find the kids and do what you do. So, go get cleaned up and join us for dinner. Okay?" Carter got to his aching feet and once again started to make his way to the shower.

"That was quite a show you put on in there today." Up on the porch of the Midway, Colleen sat in a rocking chair one of the elderly refugee men made for the staff. Soft music was coming from the beat up CD player she had hijacked from the office.

Carter stopped and rested his arms against the porch. "Well, yeah, that's not something you see every day," he said as he looked up at her. "Not a whole lot of landmines in downtown Chicago."

"Nice to see you give the kid the time of day."

"You in the habit of listening in on other people's conversations?"

"Only when I can't help it."

Carter walked up onto the porch and sat on the top step. "Nice music." The voice on the CD was soothing - something needed after what everyone had just gone through. "Who is it?"

"Joss Stone. A very special person back home sent it to me." Colleen joined him on the step and the two listened to the deep, rich singer's voice as every once in a while a camp member walked around them to get into the dining hall. "Can you believe she's only seventeen years old?"

_(Lyrics to a few lines of Fell in Love with a Boysung by Joss Stone, previously properly attributed, deleted as per new regulations by site administrators 5/3/05. The complete original text of Pocket Change can be found at LUKAFIC)_

"Wow," Carter thought aloud as he enjoyed that mellow, mature voice, the lyricsironically centered around a red headed girl,"how is it that someone so young has such an old soul?"

"I don't know, you tell me." Colleen elbowed Carter a little as she made her point. "So, are you married or otherwise committed?"

"No and no."

"Really? Well," Colleen was in a rare place where words were not coming easily to her, "um… how do feel about red heads?"

Carter smiled and even let out a small nervous laugh, happy that the setting sun was behind Colleen and he couldn't turn to look her in the face without blinding himself. "If you just made a pass at me I'm a pretty lucky guy. But…"

"But?"

"Some people come with baggage," Carter explained as he somewhat nervously picked at the dried muck on his pant leg, "I come with steamer trunks. Very large, and very full. I'm just not in a good place in my life right now to be in a relationship."

"I didn't mention anything about a relationship. That's a… that's a dirty word sometimes."

"You are very beautiful and smart, don't get me wrong. Just…" Carter stopped knowing she got it. "Well, thank you anyway."

"You really _do _have an old soul."

As Luka and Maggie walked back into camp their stomachs grumbled, the steady stream of people heading into the Midway reminding them what time of day it was. Sitting on the Midway steps, close together so as to let people come and go, were Carter and Colleen.

"Looks like Goldilocks is getting closer to Baby Bear's bed," Maggie thought aloud to Luka.

Luka couldn't miss how well the two of them got along as they were talking quietly now between themselves. _Carter and Colleen_ - it even sounded right, in a sick high school-ish sort of way. She was a flirt, alright, in her own sarcastic, brush way. And no man was safe from it, except Sean, that is. He irritated the hell out of her and it was fun to watch. But Luka just didn't see her as Carter's type. At least he didn't want to.

"You really _do _have an old soul," Luka heard her tell Carter.

"I've heard that about him." Luka stepped into their picture from the haze of the orange ball of sun dipping below the horizon behind him. "Heading in for dinner?"

"Ah, she is," Carter stood looking down at his grubby clothes, still hanging onto the bundle of clean scrubs he had grabbed in the clinic. "We really should get cleaned up before joining the rest of civilization in there."

"Yeah. Hey, are we going to have time to… you know, do that white envelope thing?" Luka tried to code talk with Carter.

"You two are full of secrets," Colleen wrinkled her forehead wanting to get in on the action. "How about sharing it with a beautiful, smart red head so she doesn't explode from curiosity."

"Oh, brother," Maggie smirked, "I'm going to go try and straighten out the drug inventory. Save me a plate, would ya?"

Colleen hopped off the steps and squeezed between the two doctors who were walking away now, preserving their secret.

"I don't divulge secrets," Carter gave Colleen playfully as she linked her arms with both doctors. "Besides, I would think a journalist is the last person to _keep _a secret."

"Okay. But I'm warning you two. It better be good." Pulling herself away to allow them to finish their stroll to the showers alone, Colleen headed back to the Midway. As the two walked away, Luka stole one last look back over his shoulder at Colleen… who was doing the same.

"So are you two…"

"What?" Carter pretended not to know what Luka was getting at as he hoped that the conversation wouldn't turn to…

"You know. You - and Colleen - interested in each other."

"Uh-huh. And the answer is no."

"When are you going to move on away from Abby? Because being alone just," Luka struggled with the appropriate feelings, in guy terms, "sucks."

"I don't know. I don't know if it's Abby, or the break-up, or me, or maybe just me wanting to gain my own confidence back again without having to step lightly around someone else's emotions."

"So a passionless life is where you want to be right now?"

"Passion has its place. Just not here. Not with me, here. I, ah, tend not to think rationally when passion is stirred up inside me, and…" Carter stopped short of the canvas covered shower stalls. "Okay. This is getting weird, Dr. Ruth. I'll see you at dinner."

Within a couple days, the camp learned that Jabari had arrived safely at Kampala and had undergone surgery to his legs. They had been able to save his right leg with external fixators and were now waiting to see how his recovery would go. The clinic was overwhelmed and understaffed as an influx of new arrivals descended on them. Carter still spent time at Gulu hospital when he could paying off his "debt" for the transfusions. He also racked up more debt using their laboratory facilities as it became more and more necessary.

"You really ought to carry a gun on you when you travel that road," Maggie advised him one day as he was leaving the camp. Carter now drove alone during the daylight hours.

"Yeah? Maybe I should just take Norman and use him as a shield." He winked at Maggie as Luka approached the Land Rover.

"What's up?" Luka asked.

"I think John needs to arm himself for protection when he goes to Gulu." Maggie answered Luka, but stared directly into Carter as if to make her point again.

"Look Maggie, I've only shot a gun once in my whole life, at that indoor firing range."

"I know," she remembered, "I was there."

"Really?" Luka was amused and surprised. "How'd you do?"

"The clock didn't stand a chance," Maggie was more than happy to announce to Luka. "He maimed it."

Carter shut the door and revved the engine. "I rest my case."

In the predawn hours of the morning, Carter, Luka and Maggie were awakened by the sudden roar of the wind and a shuffling of feet outside their bedroom doors. Although they took turns being on call for emergencies, they had become light sleepers with their rooms being right off of the clinic at the end of the hangar. They almost ran into each other as they exited their rooms into the darkened hallway. Following their eyes to the back door which had just latched closed, they stepped outside and focused their eyes and ears on an eerie sight.


	9. Chapter 9 She's a HurryCane

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
**_by Sharon R._

_A/N: As per new regulations by site administrators, I have removed sparse lyrics that I had always properly attributed. However, having reviewed copyright law as it pertains to lyrics, a few remain in this chapter as they constitute less than 10 percent of the song and the characters written are actually quoting them in context. Removing them altogether would alter the story._

* * *

**Chapter Nine  
**

In the predawn hours of the morning, Carter, Luka and Maggie were awakened by the sudden roar of the wind and a shuffling of feet outside their bedroom doors. Although they took turns being on call for emergencies, they had become light sleepers with their rooms being right off of the clinic at the end of the hangar. They almost ran into each other as they exited their rooms into the darkened hallway. Following their eyes to the back door which had just latched closed, they stepped outside and focused their eyes and ears on an eerie sight.

Figures dressed all in black moved rapidly away from them without looking back at the doctors who yelled out to them. They were swift, they were quiet, they were large and fit men - and they were all very well armed. Disappearing behind the tree line near the main road outside of the camp, the last man turned and pointed his weapon in the camp's direction, covering his men. Within seconds a black helicopter rose into the sky, two more following flanking it on each side. They weren't like regular helicopters. The near full moon cast enough illumination on the choppers for the three to easily see that there were no numbers on them - in fact no identifying marks. No lights either, and the sound with three of them even, was almost a muffled drone. As quickly as the doctors scurried outside, the three mysterious airships and their occupants were gone.

"What the hell was that?" Maggie wondered as she shivered from the sudden wind pushed at them from the departing chopper blades. "And what were they doing in here?"

"Check the inventory." Luka spun around and hurried back to the clinic worried that the inconsistencies in the supplies lately were due to raids by rebels more sophisticated than he ever imagined.

The door slammed behind them as the three scurried past their bedrooms and into the storage area next to the office. Nothing was out of place - the more valuable supplies right where they had been stored earlier in the day after a delivery. Out of the corner of his eye, Carter spied one last figure coming out of his office carefully closing the door.

Dressed all in black, the same as the fleeing men, Bob walked nonchalantly out of the clinic, tossing a set of small keys to Carter as he also exited the building.

"Good morning doctors." Bob greeted them with his calm, everyday demeanor without so much as a pause for thought. "Feels like a good day today."

Bob tended to appear and disappear quietly - something they had taken for granted. They never gave much weight to Bob's boasting, balancing their toleration for him with the occasional company he provided - and beer. But even in those minutes before the sun started to rise behind the African horizon, his presence sent a chill through them. With a sense of urgency they walked to the office, stepped inside and turned the lights on.

A brand new air conditioner was on the floor under the window waiting to be installed. And on Carter's desk was a large box the size of a mid sized television. Using Norman's letter opener, Luka broke the seals and lifted the flaps.

"Merry Christmas, or happy birthday to us," Luka grinned as he carefully lifted out a beautiful, new, pristine, blood chemistry machine in plastic and bubble wrap.

"Is that the VetScan?" Maggie asked.

Carter looked at the main unit and the other smaller pieces that came with it. "No." The units had that new smell to them as he took the different parts out of the plastic. "Actually it's the human version the military uses in the field hospitals, I believe. The U.S. military." The keys Bob gave him opened the small main frame no larger than a home computer's CPU. Looking inside, then turning the pieces over in his hands, he didn't find what he was looking for. "But there are no serial numbers." Carter sat on the corner of the desk playing with the keys as he looked at Maggie and Luka, puzzled, yet as giddy as a school boy having pulled off a successful prank. "They seem to have been removed."

The three of them stood looking at each other as they put the analyzer together not wanting to jinx their good fortune by questioning the ethics by which it made its way there. Having followed the directions for calibration, Carter rolled up his sleeve as Maggie drew a blood sample for the machine's initiation. Carefully placing the drops in each of the thirteen slots of the rotor that resembled a round package of birth control pills, Luka started the process. Within eight minutes the values were printed on a small sticker to be put in the patient's record.

"Mr. Carter, I'm happy to tell you that you'll live."

All three whooped it up drawing Norman out of his room, striped worn bathrobe in tow. Pushing his glasses up on his nose as he barged into the office, he surveyed the mess of plastic wrappings, Styrofoam and cardboard. The newness of the state-of-the-art computerized chemistry machine was hard to miss as it took up most of the space on the desk he had previously claimed, his anal retentively placed ledgers and office supplies pushed aside or relegated to a chair.

"What is this?" he squinted his eyes, then took off his glasses to once again clean the lenses with his white hankie. "What **_is _**this?"

Carter stepped forward to explain their good fortune to Norman. "Mr. Tyson, somehow we were…"

"It's bad enough you make rash decisions about how to frivolously spend the Foundation's money…"

"It's not like that…"

"…but now you completely circumvent procedure and go behind my back?"

"We didn't buy this."

Norman had no intention of listening to explanation as he pushed through Luka and Carter to get to the window. "And an air conditioner. I can't have this in my office. I can't have a chill while I work. This is just not acceptable."

"Sit down," Luka asked politely, his own patience quickly vanishing as he began to understand what Carter had been dealing with these past weeks. "Please."

"I shall not." Norman stood in front of the Croatian doctor who was at least a head taller than him.

"Mr. Tyson," Carter quietly and with great calm spoke as he stood to the side, "I think you need to hear us out."

"This is preposterous and juvenile. You clowns run this place like a three ring circus and treat me like a child."

"Sit **_down_**, Norman." Shoving a chair in back of Norman's knees, Maggie put her hand on the accountant's shoulder. At the sound of her voice, Norman's knees buckled, causing him to draw in an unnerved breath. Seated - he was.

"Now listen carefully," Luka said as he sat opposite Norman and pulled his chair so close their knees touched. It made Norman even more uncomfortable but Luka used that against him to keep his attention. "This blood chemistry machine was free. FREE. You spent nothing. The Alliance spent nothing. You need not concern yourself with how we came to get it, except that it was all perfectly… fair." Well, that was a stretch. "The only thing you need to concern yourself with is the condition of the rotors used to hold and analyze the samples. Because if they are subjected to heat and humidity they won't be usable. And when you get sick and we clowns need to treat you to save your life, we don't want to have to play a few rounds of poker to see who the loser is. You see, that person will have to take your sorry ass on a dangerous ride to the Gulu hospital for blood work because somebody who didn't want to get a chill turned the air conditioner off ruining all of the rotors."

Outside of the glassed in office, somebody turned on the lights in the hangar. The front doors began swinging open and shut as staff members started the day checking on patients and setting up for the day long lines of sick and needy refugees.

Carter and Maggie set up the air conditioner in the window, plugging it in and turning it to the lowest setting. Norman didn't so much as flinch as the three doctors cleaned up the mess and headed to the door.

"Well, I think I'll… ah…." Carter scratched his head as he pointed at the door.

"Yeah, breakfast, I guess. So…" Luka was the first out the door.

"…. get cleaned up and…. Okay then." Carter second.

Last out was Maggie who gave Norman one last glare before closing the door behind her.

"Now that was smooth Kovac," Maggie smiled.

"Where did that come from?" Carter asked Luka.

"A little something I picked up from Jules."

"Who's Jules?" Maggie asked, though by that time Luka and Carter had slipped into their rooms to change for the day.

It was a hectic day as the staff of the clinic worked non-stop to treat patients and clear new refugees for the camp. The heat was at its worst as everyone worked in permanently sweat drenched clothes. It had been like that for a few days - long lines of refugees, eighteen hour workdays, heat, sweat, bugs and with the water tankers held up due to mechanical problems, no showers or shaving. The workers felt grimy, they dug at bug bites, were over tired, underfed and ill tempered. Carter was fielding questions from all directions while dealing with jostled delicate feelings between workers whose tempers flared easily at each other, all while trying to be one of the three doctors.

With three women laboring at the same time, Maggie's attention was focused away from the treatment and in-patient areas leaving Luka and Carter to bounce from one nurse to the next approving treatments normally left to med students and residents back home. Although the hospital in Gulu accepted the most serious patients, they generally weren't appreciative of having the non-paying, non-Ugandan patients dumped on them. Carter and Kovac were now elevated to surgeons making do with what they had. Antiquated anesthesia procedures started each surgery off with the doctors on pins and needles hoping for few side effects. The arrival of the blood chemistry machine that day was tempered by the sheer amount of pressure the doctors felt to keep a promise - that little something they remembered that said, _first, do no harm._

One appendectomy.

Seven lacerations, two of them deep through tendons.

Two burn patients, one sent to Gulu.

Two fractures.

One case of internal bleeding from unknown causes led the doctors to do an ex-lap only to find cancer that had ruptured near the spleen and spread throughout the abdomen.

"He's right." Carter was splayed out on the hard cement floor of the storage room trying to give his sore back a rest.

Rifling through the inventory, trying to make sense of it with a new master list he had devised, Luka was only half listening. "Who?"

"Norman. This place **_is _**a circus, and not a very happy one today."

"Can't we all just get along?" Luka's accent didn't do the oft used line justice, not that he'd intended to. "Our post-op patients will probably use up the few pain meds we have left tonight. There is no way we should be this low. And I hope we don't need any more conscious sedation meds for a few days. _Karanje_, I know we haven't used this much." Luka let out a deep sigh, turned his list back to the beginning and started again. "I can't make heads or tale out of this. I mean, there's a sign out list here, but half the time we're too short handed and too rushed to take the time to log supplies out."

"And I dare say, that was just one of the many complaints I got today." Carter covered his face with both hands and tried to rub the grit from his eyes, nose and pores. "Need to get that little clown car in here," he mumbled. He was so punchy he could barely finish a thought.

"A package for Dr. Luka and Dr. Carter," Sean announced as he barged in. "Who do you know named S. Lewis? And if he's a doctor, how can I recruit him?"

Carter bolted upright, rubbing his red and fatigued eyes. "She - Susan Lewis. And yes, she's a doctor back in Chicago. But somehow I don't think I could convince her to board a plane for a twenty-five hour flight." With renewed energy, Carter ripped open one of the two large boxes, sneaking a peak before hastily closing the flap on Sean's curious eyes.

"Is it what we were waiting for?" Luka asked with a big grin.

"Uh-huh." Carter looked right at him as they quickly forgot their woes and rubbed their hands together with evil excitement.

"What is it?" Sean asked, eager to get in on the secret. "Come on, what kind of malarkey are you two blackguards gettin' into?"

Carter and Luka haphazardly gathered the boxes and scooted out of the storage room, across the hall to Carter's bedroom nearly tripping over each other in their giddiness.

"Um, Sean, I need you to tell the whole staff that there will be a mandatory meeting tonight at 9 o'clock in the Midway. Can you do that?" Without waiting for an answer, Carter closed the door behind him. "Thanks," he shouted through the door.

Sean heard a few laughs, then a commotion before Luka opened the door once again, sticking just his head out. "And Sean, find Bob and tell him, _the chicken crows at midnight_." He shut the door but before it could latch, opened it again with Carter chuckling in the background, "No. _Rooster_. It's very important…" He repeated it again, with Sean mindlessly mouthing along with him, "… _rooster crows at midnight_. Good. Yeah. Okay." Once again the door closed on Sean's baffled face.

"Am I the only one without a bloody secret?" Sean spoke to dead air as he walked out of the building.

The sun had just set on the PCRC as the staff gathered outside of the Midway. The doors were guarded by Othiamba out front and Joseph and Mbuto to the side. Nobody was to enter until the two doctors in charge gave the okay. There were murmurings among them about possible reasons for the meeting. The past week's heat and work load had built the volunteers' ire to the boiling point at times and tempers were fragile. Dr. Luka was complaining about the unaccounted clinic supplies and Dr. Carter was always on the go giving orders while trailed by the annoying businessman from the states. The camp had been operational for only a month and already they were drained, frustrated and some were questioning their own motives for coming to the miserable continent. As the wind picked up it whipped the unsettled dirt into the faces of the workers who began to fidget. Finally, the doors opened and the doctors stepped onto the porch.

"Ah, thank you for coming." Carter didn't get applause for his entrance. "It has been a difficult few weeks and I know that I haven't thanked you all enough for the work you do and for the sacrifices you've made. So we thought that this would be a good time to spend some quality time together." A moan came from the crowd as the thought of being forced to spend even more time together became something of a workplace mandate. "Dr. Luka?"

"Our friends in Chicago put together a little something for everyone and Dr. Carter and myself have been inside getting it ready for you." Luka paused as he saw the curiosity finally peek. "Tonight we are going to take you on a vacation to the Caribbean. Paulette?" From inside the building the music of Harry Belafonte blared, the doors opened and as the workers filed into the balloon laden mess hall singing along with the party music, the two doctors put Hawaiian leis around their necks.

_**"Shake, shake, shake, senora, shake your body line  
Shake, shake, shake, senora, shake it all the time"  
**_

The folks finally cheered as Toomay greeted them with Kool-Aid and treats. Tables were pushed to the sides to allow for congo lines and the students immediately filled the floor doing the Limbo.

Standing on a chair Carter pointed directly behind him to where Othiamba and another student were hauling large metal tubs inside. "A certain person who likes to hang around this pest whole, went out of his way -_I think _- to complete the celebration. For those of you who are inclined, for those of you of age," Carter looked playfully at the giggling students, "there's beer to go around." Now that got him the applause he had been waiting for.

_**"My girl's name is Senora  
I tell you friends, I adore her  
And when she dances, oh brother  
She's a hurry-cane in all kinds of weather**_"

Luka and Carter stood back and enjoyed watching the tired faces come alive as they forgot their little pet peeves with each other and the suffering that was in their life and now their dreams every day and night.

(Lyrics removed)

Sitting at a table to the side, they took it all in with Sean, Maggie and Colleen. Toomay even served them some snacks as Othiamba popped the tops on bottles of beer he placed in front of them. A sign made with markers graced the wall opposite them, obviously penned by two men whose artistic talents did not rise much above that of classic twenty-first century prescriptions.

PCRC - A COMMUNITY OF HEART AND SPIRIT.

"You guys are quite domestic, if I do say so myself," Colleen quipped between swallows.

"See, now, you just had to give us a chance," Luka gave back with a wink, nudging her with his shoulder. "We can do all sorts of things."

Two students came to the table and tried in earnest to get the senior staffers to join their Limbo line, the men waving them off.

"Come on Dr. Luka," Colleen playfully whined, "you can call me senora." Luka relented and joined her with the kids on the dance floor getting all kinds of laughs as he failed miserably getting under the pole.

_(Lyrics removed)_

"Bet Luka will be holding onto _her _bridle by night's end." Maggie belched as she tossed her first bottle and grabbed another. Carter just looked at her and rolled his eyes, although he enjoyed the humor in it. "You don't want to cha-cha with the worker bees?" she asked him.

"No, that's okay. Me and Limbo just don't… ah…. bad back."

"No dancing, no beer - shit Carter, don't you ever let yourself have fun?"

"I _am _having fun. Really," he told her quite unconvincingly as he laughed at Luka being dragged around the floor by the tall red head.

Maggie looked sideways at him questioning his typical, or was it atypical, secrecy.

Luka came back to the table to get his beer and spied Bob in the doorway. "Now," he whispered to Carter. The two went to the front of the mess hall, donned straw hats and, replacing the CD, motioned for everyone's attention.

"This morning the clinic was blessed with a new blood chemistry machine. The person who is responsible for that happening - as well as the beer delivery," the crowd cheered again, "is standing in the doorway. We know him as Bob, and Dr. Luka and I would like to say thank you to him in our own special way." Luka pressed the _play _button on the CD player and the two rapped along to a young Steve Martin.

_**"Now when he was a young man he never thought he'd see (King Tut)  
People stand in line to see the boy king (King Tut)  
How'd you get so funky (funky Tut)  
Then you'd do the monkey"**_

_**  
**_

It was humiliating and the staff knew it as they roared with laughter. Even Bob broke a smile as he got the humor going back to their first day in camp. Luka and Carter had worked out a little choreography as well, dancing back and forth attempting Egyptian arm motions, eventually bumping into each other.

_(Lyrics removed)_

Bob finally sat at the table as Carter and Luka finished their tribute and returned to their seats, refusing a standing ovation. The staff had certainly appreciated the candid performance of their 'leaders' and occasionally patted them on the back as they walked by - a sarcastic compliment thrown in for good measure. They were even hotter now having exerted themselves with the bravado of a bad off-off Broadway dancer. Sweating and thirsty, Carter grabbed a bottle and chugged it half down, abruptly stopping as he realized he had taken a beer instead of water in the commotion of the party. Not wanting to bring attention to his slip, he wiped his mouth and put the bottle back where he found it, pushing it away. No one _had _noticed.

Colleen was snapping pictures of the party - Luka's eyes followed her as she skillfully worked the room, her natural energy adding to the festivities.

"She's very good at what she does. She somehow always gets the photo ops that others can't," Bob remarked sitting between Luka and Carter. "She knows what she wants and she gets it."

"Get a lot of stuff published?" Carter asked as he looked for the nearest bottle of water.

"Oh yeah, but she has stiff competition. A woman in this field has to be twice as good as the best man, and Reilly is keen on that." Bob drew another beer out of the tub, skillfully removing the cap with his hand. "Almost too much so," he mumbled to himself.

"So, what is it?" Carter asked Bob as he leaned back on the table watching the action on the dance floor.

"What?"

"You know." Carter slowly steered his eyes across at Luka, wanting him to get in on ribbing Bob. "Your _real _first name?"

Bob wagged his finger at the men while choosing to maintain his normal state of no-comment.

Sean took a seat at the table again with a bag of beer nuts - another treat from the ER crew. "John, these came for you today too." Sean pulled out two envelopes from his shirt pocket and pushed them across the table to Carter.

Having been disconnected from his life back in Chicago for so long, and comfortable with it and himself, Carter considered whether or not he even wanted to open the letters. He turned them over in his hand and gently stroked his finger over the return address on the smaller letter - a card, actually, from Abby. He opened the business letter from the Carter Foundation instead. He could not believe what he was reading and half way through stuffed it back in the envelope. Abby's had to be a far cry better that that, he thought. It wasn't and not wanting to hang his head in misery in the middle of all of the fun he'd helped created for the few short hours of the evening, he chose to walk out.

"You okay?" Luka sat down on the steps next to Carter who still held onto the letters.

Carter nodded his head, folding the letters as he shoved them into his back pocket.

"Bad news?"

"Let's just say non-productive."

"Distance has a way of making people feel safe enough to put their most hateful words of blame on paper. Most of the time once the letter has been mailed, they have a change of heart - and regret."

"How did you know it was from Abby?"

Luka shrugged his shoulders. "Educated guess."

"And how do you know what she had to say?"

"On the job training."

Heat lightening that had dabbled in the distance recently, sporadically lit up the dark sky - flashes of white teasing of the so far non existent rain. Luka and Carter sat side by side admiring the light show behind the clouds while listening to the buoyant voices behind them.

"They're having a good time, aren't they?" asked Carter.

"Yeah, I think we made some brownie points."

The squeal of the screen door suddenly stopped their conversation as the rest of the regular occupants of the 'family table' streamed out onto the porch, stepping away from the loud rock music that now occupied the CD player.

Bob, Colleen, Maggie, Othiamba, Toomay and Sean all found spots to park themselves, Sean conveniently sidling up to Colleen.

"So tell us about your heritage, Colleen," Sean asked enthusiastically moving closer to her hoping to make points with the striking redhead.

"I wouldn't go there if I were you," Bob mumbled atonally as he walked in back of Sean to take his usual place against the post.

Colleen swung her nearly empty beer bottle between her knees as she sat on the edge of the porch. "You want to know? You really want to know about how my noble Irish father waltzed into South Boston with this story of having made a fortune back in the motherland, then fucked the first red headed woman he saw?"

"Oh Christ, here we go," Bob sighed. Colleen was in her own world now.

"Of course the only job he could get was tending bar. It's the only thing the brainless drunk knew anything about. I remember fondly the smell of stale cigarettes and beer as he came home every night to beat the living shit out of my mother."

"And she was named after…" Bob continued in the background.

"I was named after my father's favorite whore, at least his favorite whore on West Broadway. Proud of that, he was. Told everyone." She lifted her beer bottle and slugged the last of it back. "I was smart enough to get the hell out of there when I turned eighteen. Eventually got into journalism and went to Ireland to find this great rich family of ours only to find that he was full of shit." Colleen honored Sean's previous wishes and scooted closer to him, parking her chin on his shoulder so as to make sure he got the whole story. "You see…,"

"Let's not forget about the IRA…" Bob hit his head against the beam as though to speed up the show.

"… he had pined after, and poked into, a wife of one of the big IRA thugs and got his **arse chased out of your precious Ireland,**" she screamed mocking Sean's Irish brogue.

Uncomfortable, his ear ringing from the verbal assault, Sean stood and straightened up as he walked by Bob to the other side of the porch, dejected by a dream.

"I told you not to go there," Bob spoke under his breath as Sean squeezed between him and Luka who stood to offer a slightly drunk Colleen an arm to lean on.

"You - _fuck face_," she spouted close up to Bob, Luka holding her back, "Keep your comments to yourself." Bob raised a hand accepting his defeat while also warding off her breath.

"His name- his real first name folks, is Vivian," she slurred as she turned around in a circle repeating herself, louder this time. "_Vivian_. **_Vivian_**."

Carter stood to allow Luka a chance to settle Colleen down next to him on the steps, and he gladly accepted putting an arm around her.

"Nice music," Colleen remarked as the loud rock had been replaced by a slow moving, soft Norah Jones. "I don't get a chance to party like this often."

"Obviously," Maggie snorted, noticing Carter standing at the door, peeking in at the stragglers left at the party who had now coupled up on the dance floor. Lightening inched closer to them and thunder now accompanied it. He was smiling as the song painted a pretty picture of thunder and lightening, rain and darkness.

_(Lyrics to a few lines of The Prettiest Thingsung by Norah Jones previously properly attributed, deleted as per new regulations by site administrators 5/3/05. The complete original text of Pocket Change can be found at LUKAFIC)_

Maggie put an arm around Carter's waist and allowed him to give her an affectionate squeeze. "What haven't you told me?" she whispered.

_(Lyrics deleted)_

At first, Carter contemplated lying to her, but instead shook his head as he spoke. "A lot has happened since you left Chicago. I suppose…,"

At that moment a huge clap of thunder shook the compound, flickering the lights. When the skies opened and rain poured down, the Midway emptied out and hoots and hollers could be heard far and wide. The first rain in weeks and no one was going to miss it.

In the center of the roadway between the hanger and Midway, Luka and Colleen stood with their arms out taking in the free flowing rain as it pounded down on them. Colleen's t-shirt was soaked through revealing her generously proportioned breasts. As Luka moved to take her hand and inch closer to her, he looked at Carter, his eyes almost asking permission. Carter gave him a smile and half a nod. He enjoyed seeing Luka happy.

"She's quite the trollip, isn't she?" Sean's sudden change in opinion of Colleen wouldn't be kept to himself.

Bob, Carter, Maggie and Sean had remained on the porch opting instead to be entertained by the revelers dancing about in the rain and marveling at what they had so often taken for granted.

"So what do you think? Those puppies real?" They all knew what Maggie was referring to. Carter was speechless and looked to Bob to pick up the conversation.

"You're the doctors," he answered, "can't you tell?"

"Well, **_I _**wouldn't mind copping a feel to find out," Maggie gave with a sly raise of her eyebrows, "but I don't think Miss Prissy Britches would let me."

With Bob and Sean silenced, yet their attention still focused on Maggie's outing of herself, Carter jumped in with his bit of wisdom. "Maybe we should ask Norman. He seems all knowing and I'm sure he is a walking book on boobage."

Once Maggie was off the porch and into the rain herself, Sean made his assumptions aloud. "Would it be that she's a carpet muncher?" Bob looked perplexingly at him. "You know, a bean flicker?"

This time Bob was the one who was speechless.

"I believe he means lesbian," Carter added as he gave Bob a big pat on the back.

As they laughed, Carter spied a drunk Todd in the rain and stepped down to pour him into bed.

"Todd, have you ever been drunk before?" he asked as Maggie came over to help him.

"No, I don't drink, and I happen do know da I not d… d… dr…. drunk now."

"Uh-huh. Come on Todd." A doctor on each side and he was off to the dorms. "We'll take you home and tuck you in."

"You my…" Todd paused to let out a horrifically loud and odiferous belch, "…friends?"

Maggie let him rest his head on her shoulder. Hell, he wouldn't remember it. "Yeah, we're your friends."

"Now if we could only get Norman liquored up," Carter mumbled.

Bob walked by them on his way to his SUV. Very swiftly as he passed Maggie he gave her one parting thought. "By the way, they're real."

Luka lifted Colleen's chin and looked deeply into her eyes, her wet hair falling limply to her shoulders. The rain was coming down in sheets now and dripped over the contours of their faces. For the first time since meeting her, Luka saw her vulnerability. Maybe her sharp personality had been tempered by the alcohol, maybe it was a cover up for a weakness, but it didn't matter to Luka. For at that very moment when he took her face and cradled it in his hands, he saw only softness. He wanted to kiss her but hesitated, enjoying the feel of her cheeks in his palms and the stray locks of wet hair that fell over his fingers. If he was waiting for permission he got it when she placed her hands on his own rain soaked t-shirt and stroked the back of her fingers over his cold and nearly exposed nipple. The kiss was simple and sweet. He met her moist plump lips with his own and pressed into her, the warmth searing through each of them as they pulled away briefly before meeting eyes and tasting each other once again.

The relief from the rain was short lived as the harsh sun and smothering heat returned the next day. After lunch the children rallied the grown ups in the Midway to come to the soccer fields to act as fans for a game they had arranged between two teams. By that time Todd's hangover was resolving, though he stuck close to the sidelines choosing to be an observer instead of a participant that day. It was obvious to the doctors that Todd had begun to emerge from his shell as the kids frequently turned to him for encouragement and support.

"The kids really like him, huh." Carter showed up just as the game was finishing, having covered the clinic all day.

Luka still donned his straw hat from the night before. Wearing sunglasses and sipping a beer he leaned back in his rickety office chair he had dragged out to the fields. "He sure seems to fit."

"Beer again? Not enough last night?" Carter chided him.

"Never enough," he winked. "But the bottled water is gone. Don't much feel like hiking back to the Midway." Although he had been watching the kids congratulate each other on the field, he was really eyeing Colleen who was circling the action getting pictures.

"Have a good night?" Carter asked as he followed the path of Luka's eyes propped over the top of his shades at Colleen's backside in the middle of the field.

Luka pushed up his sunglasses and gave Carter a self conscious little laugh. "Yes, I did. And thank you, by the way, for the CD player in my room, but it wasn't necessary."

"Ah, well, Maggie put it there. I think she's hoping that molding the two irritants in her life here together will eliminate her stress by a factor of one." Carter fished for more information, not taking his eyes off Luka. "So?"

"So," he chuckled, "so… nothing. Nothing happened. I was a gentleman."

Carter had two kites with him that Susan had included in the boxes and with the post storm wind, the conditions were perfect. What they hadn't thought about was that most of the children had never seen a kite before, and certainly not the fancy ones with bright colors that day. Luka and Carter had a ball getting them into the air as the children ran after them shrieking in delight. Carter finally got his to hang up high, straight up, and he passed the spool of string to one of the older kids. Sitting in Luka's vacant chair, out of breath, he reached down and grabbed one of the remaining beers chugging that one, then downing another. He was so thirsty. Just a couple beers, it wouldn't hurt. He'd had a beer here and there in the past four years. He wasn't even terribly fond of beer anymore. He thought that maybe he had lost the taste for it. But it did quench his thirst. As it so often happened in northwestern Uganda, the wind suddenly shifted direction, crashing both kites to the ground. Carter watched as Luka's kite took a nose dive right into a tree at the edge of the airfield, then returned his partially imbibed third beer to the ground before running out to rejoin the crowd at the far side of the field in the tree line.

Both doctors boasted about being able to retrieve the kite, and without warning took off in a race to the tree delighting the children and other volunteers who cheered them on taking equal sides. If childhood tendencies ever resurfaced in grown ups, they did that day with Carter and Luka as they mocked each other while seeing who could get to the top of the tree first. The race was dead even, but in the end Luka's long arms won out as his fingertips just reached the leopard designed kite knocking it to the ground. It was good fun and the two cajoled with each other as they shifted in the branches to make the descent.

"Show off," Carter teased. "Couldn't grab the brass ring last night, so you try to impress the chick with tree climbing?"

"Hey, at least I'm reaching for it."

Both broke out in uncontrollable laughter as they sat midway up the tree, far enough to be out of ear shot. Reaching to grab a limb, Carter missed completely and as if in slow motion, fell straight down. Luka watched horrified not able to do anything.

"**_Carter!_**"

* * *

_Lyrics for: Jump In the Line  
Harry Belafonte  
Words and Music by Stephen Somvel  
__  
King Tut  
__Words and Music by Steve Martin_


	10. Chapter 10 To be so High

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Ten**

Both broke out in uncontrollable laughter as they sat midway up the tree, far enough to be out of ear shot. Reaching to grab a limb, Carter missed completely and, as if in slow motion, fell straight down. Luka watched horrified not able to do anything.

"**_Carter!_**"

He saw his fingers just miss the branch he had thought was in his reach, the same he had easily used for leverage on the way up. Carter was so confident of his tree climbing - or in this case, tree descending - abilities that he didn't even look before reaching out for it. But before he knew it, in the middle of laughing with Luka just above him, he turned his head just in time to see his left hand grab at - _air_.

Luka's hand seemed to be slowed down as he wrapped his left arm around the limb he was sitting on and thrust his right hand down at Carter who plummeted through the foliage. His cheek scratched by the bark of the tree, Luka almost allowed himself to fall too as he slithered down the tree bizarrely trying to get to the ground before Carter.

First his shoulder hit a branch, then the leaves whipped at his exposed skin as the velocity lent itself only to the torture the tree was imposing on his helpless form. Although he tried to reach for something to grab onto, his brain surrendered and Carter realized there really was nothing he could do but ride it out. Almost at the same time, he wrenched his left armpit in the crotch of the tree, the front of his body slamming into the tree trunk as it was violently slowed. A flash of pain as he bit his tongue was quickly overshadowed by the blow his throat took when he jolted his head back. There was a good side to this - it broke his fall so that he eventually simply tumbled to the surface below allowing him to avoid a head injury. The bad side, however, was that he could feel his arm pop out of its socket and separate from his body at the shoulder. Although it hurt like a son of a bitch, it wasn't a new feeling for him, having already dislocated his shoulder years ago. But his throat having connected with the tree trunk was a pain that frankly frightened him.

_**THUD**_

Luka let himself go into a controlled fall himself about four branches from the bottom ending up on his feet just inches from Carter who was on his back struggling to get a breath. A-B-C, Luka maintained his composure outwardly as he leaned back on his heels. "The A-B-C's," Luka thought aloud. Airway, breathing and circulation. Right off the bat it was obvious that Carter was having difficulty breathing, and he had a huge abrasion on the front of his neck in the throat area.

"Carter," Luka put his hands on each side of Carter's head to keep it still and looked in the struggling man's face, "what's going on with your breathing? Hmmm? Do you feel like something is stuck in your airway?"

Carter shook his head as much as Luka's immobilizing hands would let it, and with his right hand pointed to his chest at the level of the diaphragm.

"Your solar plexus?"

Carter nodded.

"Okay - you got the wind knocked out of you. That's the least of your worries." Luka tried to comfort him, then turned around to the people behind him. "Todd, come up here and hold Dr. Carter's head very still just like I am. Othiamba and Joseph run back to the clinic as fast as you can and get Dr. Maggie. Tell her to bring a backboard and a collar." By the time Luka had farmed out tasks, Carter had regained his ability to control his breathing but was in great pain. "You have to stay still, Carter, and not move around."

Carter tried to speak but something in his throat prevented any sound from coming out. Luka began a cursory exam by palpating his frame starting with his head, then the neck, arms, chest abdomen, hips and legs.

"Move your feet for me." Carter wiggled them, but the movement alone caused pain to sear through his shoulder. "And your fingers." No problem there as Carter reached up in a panic and grabbed Luka's shirt pulling him closer to his face. Luka placed his own hand on Carter's putting it down. "You've got a lot of blood coming out of your mouth, your left shoulder is obviously dislocated and you have a serious abrasion over your trachea. You know the drill Carter, now help me out here. Do you think you have a tracheal injury?" Small nod. "How about pain in your chest or abdomen?" Carter thought for a second as he forced himself to shift his focus away from the obvious areas of pain. He shook his head 'no'. "How about your head? I didn't see how you landed. Any big hurts up there?" Again, he shook his head.

Sean's white Land Rover was rumbling through the field at top speed, a huge cloud of dust trailing it as tire marks were left in the landscape. Maggie, Sean, Othiamba and Joseph jumped out, leaving the engine revving as it recovered from the assault.

"Oh God, what happened?" Maggie asked as she brought over the backboard and cervical collar.

"Fell out of a tree." Luka, Sean and Maggie positioned Carter so that the board could slide under him easily. "Okay, roll him on three," Luka announced as they all positioned themselves at Carter's left side. "One , two, three…"

Carter howled as best he could without the ability to make much of a sound. The pain in his shoulder was excruciating as they put him on his side and pushed the board under him. With the collar in place, Sean raced back to the Rover and knocked down the rear seat. With their patient loaded carefully in the back, Maggie sat backwards in the front passenger seat with her hands on Carter's shoulders while Othiamba and Luka stood on the running boards. This time Sean kept the Rover at a much slower pace, trying as best he could to avoid the ruts.

The nurses were waiting for them when they arrived at the clinic and quickly helped the doctors to assess Carter's condition. An IV was established in his right arm and the blood was wiped from his face as the other vitals were taken. Maggie and Luka were very thorough in their exam and when they were certain that his neck was clear, they removed the collar. Once more he was rolled to his side as Luka put his hand up the back of Carter's shirt to carefully check each vertebrae for any abnormalities. Maggie gloved up and tended to Carter's mouth wounds as Luka once again palpated his abdomen for possible signs of internal bleeding.

"Probably a bruised larynx," Maggie judged. "It will heal, but you won't be doing a lot of talking for a few days." Maggie's bedside manner helped Carter relax as she joked with him. "Are you allergic to anything?"

"Compazine," Carter mouthed.

"I know you don't want to hear this Carter," Luka told him in his own laid back way, "but you're going to have to give us a urine sample after we fix your shoulder."

Carter rolled his eyes and shifted slightly as he thought about the grace and humility, or lack thereof, of pissing in a jar while flat on his back in front of an audience. He shook his head 'no'."

"Or we can cath you," Luka offered as an alternative.

"No," Carter mouthed, barely making a sound. He raised his hand up to wave Luka away when a huge wave of pain overtook him and he drew his knees up reflexively.

"Your shoulder?" Maggie asked. Carter nodded and beat his right fist into the mattress of the exam table. "Then let's get that reduced. How about something for the pain? We might be able to find some morphine back there."

Carter stared straight up at Maggie, not attempting to talk, nor was he communicating in any form. He was thinking. Thinking about how nice it would feel to get something to take the excruciating pain away from his shoulder, arm, and throat. And of course his ever present back pain wouldn't mind. Instead he turned away knowing that there weren't any meds like that in the building. He and Luka had already checked. Convenient for a recovering drug addict. But he'd pretend. He certainly had enough in his memory bank to draw from, all labeled "Carter: strung out."

"No." Luka didn't even give Maggie a chance to look. He just threw it out there. No.

"No meds to do the reduction," Maggie was confused, "or no, we don't have any morphine back there?"

"I mean no meds for Carter. We can do this without. Right Carter?"

Carter nodded reluctantly.

"Are you _sick_, Kovac?" Maggie shouted over the patient. "Let me get this right. You want to put Carter through a fully conscious shoulder reduction after what he's already been through?"

"Just…" Luka combed his hand through his hair and clenched his mouth before finishing. "Just … no meds. Okay? Trust me." Luka patted Carter's legs before heading out to get a long sheet to use for the reduction. He was sick of having to justify himself to Maggie and didn't think it was his place to divulge Carter's private past and certainly not to her.

"This is bullshit." Maggie went to the other side of the room and took a box out from under some shelving. "What the hell kind of thrill does he get out of seeing you in pain?" From the box, Maggie took out two vials. She drew something up into the first syringe and injected it into the port of Carter's IV, then drew more from the second vial and did the same. Carter immediately felt relief. Relief and the feeling of floating off the bed. He'd felt this way before, he knew the source, but he just didn't care.

Luka came back in with a sheet and wrapped it around Carter's chest to use for leverage. "Wow, it didn't seem to bother him," he mumbled as he got into position. "Okay, Carter. This is going to really hurt, but we'll be quick."

Maggie burned her eyes into his as the two worked together to pop Carter's arm back into its socket. _Crack_. With only a slight moan from his patient, Luka became suspicious and checked Carter's eyes. His pupils were constricted.

"What did you give him?"

"Versed and Fentanyl."

"_What?_" Luka hadn't heard the mention of those meds since leaving Chicago. "Where did you get them?'

"I have my own private supply for emergencies. And watching Carter in pain definitely qualified, don't you think?" He was sick, she thought. What did he care? What, was this -Survivor-Pakwach?

"I told you not to do that," he yelled at her through his tightly clenched mouth.

"You know, you have issues with me and haven't even given me the benefit of treating me like a colleague since I got here. But I'll tell you, your issues shouldn't be with me. They should be back in that supply room where your supplies and meds keep disappearing from right under your nose." Maggie hit hard with her words when she needed to. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Maggie spit at him. "I don't get you. He's stable. He's handling it well and he's obviously more comfortable. Don't take your immature petty feelings for me out on Carter. I know what I'm doing."

Luka was furious as he drew a blood sample from Carter. "Do you?" He was livid as he left to run the sample through the chemistry machine.

Carter's mouth was dry and the taste of blood woke him from his outing. His tongue was swollen but he still was able to run it over his teeth to make sure they were still there. They were. He felt so woozy and then remembered that Maggie had sedated him. Bringing his right hand up and over his chest he felt his shoulder and was relieved to feel it back home where it belonged, but in doing so managed to stretched his bum muscles in his back which were in spasms.

Maggie heard the rustling of the sheets under Carter as she was charting his vitals. Putting the file down she ran to him when he let out a painful, rough sounding scream. "Carter, what is it?" He'd woken up quickly.

His hand grabbed at his throat, then moved to his left shoulder and then finally his back. He was sweating and his breathing was labored as the pain was mounting. "You have pain?" she asked him.

Carter nodded quite vigorously as tears streaked down his temple - tears that came without effort, the kind that just show up when you least want them to. Not tears of sadness, but ones produced by an inner struggle to overcome riveting pain. When Maggie grabbed the vial of Fentanyl he shook his hand at her and motioned to his back. "Sta…. sta…" He couldn't talk and barely got those few horse sounds out. "Stab… Stabbed." He needed to finish telling her what he started to the night before. _Maggie should know_, he thought. _She is my doctor now_. The small of his back shifted again as he pulled his arm back resting it on his chest. Once again gripping pain coursed through him as his muscles and joints fought against each other.

"Stabbing pain? Carter do you want more pain meds?"

Carter looked at her and lay very still as his foggy brain did some searching. He felt as though he were frozen. He wanted relief so bad, anything to make the pain stop, but… but…

"It's your decision. Not Luka's."

Carter contemplated and his head nodded just once, very slowly, almost as though he had no control over it.

As Maggie injected the Fentanyl into Carter's line she smiled at him, glad that she could give him some comfort. "This should do the trick. I gave you a good dose that will put you out for a while." After the Fentanyl was in she gave him just 1cc more of Versed for good measure. As Carter's eyelids fluttered Maggie settled back into her chair. "I'll just call you Loopy," she joked.

It _was _a circus and Carter was on one hell of a ride. As he fell into unconsciousness he heard the innocent music of the old time carnival. The out of tune organ grinders, calliopes, and horns, all inviting him to the biggest show on earth, and he was the ringmaster. Spinning around, going up and down, bright lights and child-like music all colored his state of mind.

_(Lyrics to a few lines of Carnival Townby Norah Joens and Lee Alexander previously properly attributed, deleted as per new regulations by site administrators 5/3/05. The complete original text of Pocket Change can be found at LUKAFIC)_

Loopy. That's what he heard Maggie say. Loopy. Loopy. It fit. He liked this carnival and thought he might stay a while, so long as those freaky clowns stay away. He was still in pain, he just didn't care. He was just an observer at that point.

_(Lyrics deleted)_

"His crit is good," Luka said as he came around the corner. "But let's check it every 30 minutes for a couple hours to make sure it's steady. I don't want to…" He looked down at Carter who seemed even more out of it than before if it was possible. "Why hasn't he regained consciousness?" Luka checked his eyes and then his vitals.

Carter only vaguely heard Luka and Maggie talking above him. He was drifting and feeling as though he hadn't a care in the world. His own little world.

"He did," Maggie spoke over the chart without looking up. "He said he was having stabbing pains in his back. Said he wanted more meds."

"So you gave them to him?" Luka couldn't believe that she would completely ignore his order not to give him narcotics. Or could he?

"Well, yeah. You never gave me a reason not to, and besides, he asked for them." Maggie felt like she was either dealing with a child or an over protective parent, neither giving her the trust she deserved.

"You think he's in a state of mind to think rationally? Did you even check his back?"

"No, you already did. Look we need to get him undressed. He's going to be out for a while and he's a mess."

"Do you have some Narcan in your magic box too so we can try to reverse this?" Luka gave Carter some IV steroids to help with the inflammation to his trachea and laryngeal area.

"What? No. What for anyway? He's getting the same meds here as he would back in the states. I'd think that would be something."

By this time they had an audience of Bob, Sean, Colleen and Todd, although they wouldn't have known as the two doctors were fighting like cats and dogs.

Luka wasn't about to change the subject. "_You can't give him narcotics_," he screamed at her.

"What is this about you wanting to watch him suffer? I certainly didn't waste what little of it was in stock here." The only thing keeping the two apart was Carter, the patient, between them.

"Hold it," Sean stepped in, and then Colleen as she went to Luka's side. "You two have been on each other's nerves since day one. Now, there's no one to blame here and I trust that you have Carter's best interest in mind… both of you."

Luka pretty much ignored Sean as he walked around the treatment bed and got right in Maggie's face. "You _think _you know him, but you _don't_."

That hit her fast as she stepped back away from Luka's hard, angry face.

Luka balled his fist at his side, and closed his eyes as he broke Carter's confidence and blurted out his secret. "_He can't have narcotics. He's a drug addict_." The faces in that room dropped as the secret was out. "He doesn't want narcotics. We've talked about it." Luka took a deep breath as Colleen put her arm on his back. With nothing he could do, Luka stepped back and took a moment to calm himself. "We'll just have to watch him. He shouldn't be out too long."

"Excuse me," a meek voice came from the doorway as Todd spoke up, "but would it make a difference if he had alcohol in his system?"

"He doesn't drink." As Maggie said it, it all made sense to her now. The program, AA or NA, would discourage drinking. Carter was following the program and she cursed herself for not being able to put two and two together.

"Well, yes, he um…" Todd fidgeted and wiped the nervous sweat of his palms on his pants, "…um, I saw him drink a couple beers at the field just before he ran to the tree."

"Shit." Luka went to the head of the bed and once again assessed Carter's vitals, worried about his breathing. "A couple?"

"Yeah, at least two. Maybe more. There was no water there and I think… but… will he be okay?" The young man's concern was genuine.

"The alcohol will enhance the effects of the Fentanyl, which is already a hundred times more potent that morphine," Maggie admitted as she was putting the clues together that equaled Carter's predicament and her own guilt. "We should tube him."

"No. We can bag him if we have to, but we can't give his trachea another reason to bleed or swell." Luka was mad at himself for spoiling Carter's privacy but equally mad for not explaining the situation earlier to Maggie. "We'll just have to wait and see. I'll stay with him until he wakes up."

No one moved from their place until a gurgling sound came from the bed. Rushing to Carter, Maggie, Luka and Sean rolled him on his side to keep him from aspirating the vomitus into his lungs. Luka wiped as much away from Carter's face and cleared his mouth as best he could without the aid of suction.

Stepping to the other side of the bed to get some more towels, Maggie was horrified when she looked at Carter's back exposed for the first time as his shirt rode up. There she saw two large scars - scars from stab wounds, the type that she had seen before while working with patients in inner city hospitals. But there was more partially hidden by his shirt that didn't fit Luka's explanation. She was speechless as she stood and gawked at Carter's back. As he was rolled back she looked at his pale, unconscious face and saw a stranger. Maybe she really didn't know him.

Luka heard Maggie leave the curtained off area but couldn't bring himself to look that way as Sean and Bob followed her. "Todd, why don't you help me get Carter undressed." As Luka started to cut Carter's shirt away, he looked at Colleen and with his eyes asked her to step away to give the men some privacy.

Maggie walked as quickly as she could to the back office. She wanted to get away. How could she not have known? Why didn't he tell her? She slammed the door behind her on the faces of Sean and Bob who were following her.

_(Lyrics deleted)_

"What is Dr. Carter's condition?" Norman asked from his desk.

"He fell from a tree. He'll be fine." Maggie just didn't want to talk to him and cut him off, glad that Bob and Sean had come in to prevent her from strangling the thin necked accountant.

"I will need to notify the Foundation of this," he succinctly told the trio standing at the end of the office.

"That's not your job," Sean gave him with backbone.

"This could change things."

"It's NOT your job," Maggie spit out as she walked up to the man. "Carter is fine, and when he wakes up _he _will make the decision on who gets called, if anyone."

"Can you give us a moment, Mr. Tyson?" Sean asked politely

"I'll be finished up here shortly"

"**_Get out, Norman_**," Maggie snapped at him.

With that, Norman bustled out through the side door not wanting to walk near Maggie who was parked on the table near the main exit to the clinic area.

"You didn't know, Maggie," Sean tried to reassure her after Norman had closed the door behind him, "he'll be okay."

"Did you?" she asked Sean. "Did you know?"

"Yes. He had to disclose his background information, but it's confidential."

"And you, Double-Oh-Seven," she pointed to Bob, "you knew?"

"About the stabbing back in the states, yes. And what happened in the Congo, but not the addiction part. But it makes sense now. He can withstand… "

"What?" Maggie stood, now with even more unanswered questions. "What happened in the Congo? And what the hell is going on here with Kovac and Carter and their secrets?"

"Look, Luka and Carter have a special bond that only people have who share a deep, emotionally scarring experience." Sean gently put a hand on her arms crossed in front of her. "You and Luka need to work things out, eh? When all of this has passed, you can sit down with Carter and talk to him."

"Why didn't he tell me?"

"You know him well enough to understand that he is not the type of person who shares the bad stuff in his life. He just doesn't dwell on it, at least not openly. Give him time. Let him tell you on his terms."

Before Maggie got a chance to pry more information from Sean, a nurse stuck her head in the door to announce the arrival of an injured refugee.

Once they were alone, Luka started getting Carter's blood stained and soiled clothes off of him knowing that as Todd helped, he would see more than he was ready to explain. First off was the shirt. Luka cut the t-shirt away, careful not to poke Carter's throat or cut the IV lines. The two were quiet in their work. It was par for the course with the nervous Todd whose self confidence measured in the red. He was uncomfortable enough in a hospital-like setting, let alone that he was undressing his superior who he both looked up to yet who also made him tuck his tail and scat.

"Bring his knees up," Luka mentioned as he unbuttoned Carter's pants. "It's easier to slide them down over his hips, then straighten them… there you go." To get the shirt out from under him, they had to roll Carter once more. Luka watched as Todd saw the scars of Carter's past for the first time. Words formed on the young man's lips, but it was like his thoughts and questions stalled inside his head.

Luka had been keenly aware of Todd's unease and tried to reassure him. "It's okay. Those are just scars. They aren't hurting him now." Then to himself he thought that with all the narcotics in his system, Carter wasn't feeling anything at all.

"Will he sleep a long time?"

"He'll be out from the medication for a few hours. And then he'll probably sleep deeply for several more after he initially awakens."

"Won't he…, I mean is he going to, um, …" Todd motioned to Carter's mid section. "How will he, um…"

"Go to the bathroom?" Luka finished for him. "I'm going to put on something called an external catheter. It goes on like a condom." Todd's face blushed at the mention of that. "And his urine will drain into a bag." As Luka finished with this task he took Carter's vitals one more time and covered him with a sheet.

Todd had taken a seat to the side strangely not wanting to leave Carter. "How did he get those scars?" he asked meekly.

"The two big ones are stab wounds. A psychotic patient stabbed him."

"What about those other ones?" Todd asked as he cleared his throat wondering if he was overstepping his boundaries.

"A few months ago he and I were kidnapped in the Congo and held for about a month. Those other scars are from whippings." There, he said it. Didn't hurt to tell the kid.

"You have them too?"

"No," he said in almost a confessing manner.

A commotion outside of the curtains surrounding Carter's bed grabbed Luka's attention as he went around the corner to see what it was about. A child had been carried in with injuries and even though a nurse was returning from the office with Maggie, he wanted to be there as well.

"Todd, I have to tend to an emergency out there. Watch Carter, and if he looks like he's going to vomit, turn his head, okay?"

Todd's eyes widened as he mechanically acknowledged Luka's orders.

A soldier who commonly walked the perimeter of the camp carried the boy to a table. He was familiar to them. A boy who played with Mbuto and Joseph and was one of the stand out soccer players. Upon initial exam it was apparent that he suffered multiple fractures including his legs, hip and possibly his pelvis.

"What happened?" Luka asked as Maggie stepped in to help.

Wide eyed and scared, Joseph came to Luka's side. "We were playing football. Mani kicked the ball away and ran with it. He kept kicking it and it went over the fence." Joseph tried hard to control his tears. "We told him not to, but he went around the gate to get the ball. He ran into a car."

Even with both doctors and the nurses bustling around doing what they could, the boy's injuries kept mounting. His abdomen was rigid from blood loss, they didn't need to tap it to find that out. As Maggie checked the boy's head she could feel the edges of fractured bone. His eyes were fixed and dilated. Blood and brain matter came from both ears. There were no spontaneous respirations, only agonal breathing.

"Dr. Kovac?" Todd had stepped into the emergency area. Immediately his eyes went to the boy and recognized him as one of his soccer players. "I, um, I think I need to ask you a question." He wanted to stay and see to the boy, but he had pressing matters.

"Not now, Todd," Luka answered.

"Go." Maggie motioned to the boy's head. "I think I can handle this."

Luka took her hint and checked Mani's head out as well, coming to the same conclusion.

"Dr. Kovac, I don't know…" Todd tried again.

"Is Carter vomiting?" Luka cut him off.

"No, but…"

"Then get back to him. I'll be there shortly." Luka's head did a mental break down of what was going on around him. Carter lay unconscious not far from him, the only other doctor in the camp was close to stringing him up by his Croatian balls, one of the camp boys lay dead in front of him, his mother stood to the side as Joseph wept telling her in her native French that Dr. Luka the Wonder Doctor would save her son, Mbuto stood like a statue taking it in but showing absolutely no emotion, and Colleen was annoying everyone as she callously took pictures of the scene.

"**Please**," he barked at Todd. "I'll be right there." Turning around as Todd went back to Carter, he caught Colleen as she paused to change out cameras. "_Stop_. Just stop. This is not the time."

"Oh come on," she remarked with excitement, "this is good stuff."

Colleen was tall, she was a woman who made her presence known in more ways than one. But that day, at that time, Luka was the one who decided what was 'good stuff' and what wasn't.

"I am about to tell that mother that her son is dead," Luka told her very quietly just a few inches from her face, "then I have to explain to those children why I couldn't save their friend. One whose own father was assassinated so close to me that his brains splattered on my shirt, and the other boy who came here so devoid of emotion and had just started coming around now going back in his shell. So _no_, this is not good stuff."

With the doctors standing idly no longer working on her child, the mother had no more need for Joseph to translate. She knew. Her boy was dead and she knew. Moms know these things. She felt it and ran to him throwing her arms over the lifeless body, wailing, wanting that one last moment but gypped out of it.

Joseph sobbed not caring who saw the growing boy's tears. He wanted to feel his own mother's arms around him as he felt the sudden shock of losing his father all over again. In stark contrast, Mbuto was the only one in the room seemingly disconnected from the emotion, taking it all in as an objective observer - unaffected. Maggie cocked her head at the boy's stone cold face, taken by his distance.

"He was like that in Bunia," Luka explained. "He's seen it all. He's never had that connection like Joseph did with his own father." As he grabbed Maggie's attention and her own eyes, Luka kept his voice down. "You have to love and be loved in order to express sadness."

Paulette stepped away to look in on Carter and quickly returned motioning for Luka. "What is it Paulette?" he asked in defeat. She couldn't find the right word but opened and closed her hand in a repetitive motion.

It took Luka a moment to realize just what she was mimicking, then bolted away from Colleen and around the curtains. Todd's face was tense, beads of sweat dripped from his brow, and his hands shook in nervousness as he squeezed the ambu bag covering Carter's nose and mouth, breathing for him.


	11. Chapter 11 Can You Fix Him?

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**_Chapter Eleven_**

It took Luka a moment to realize just what she was mimicking, then bolted away from Colleen and around the curtains. Todd's face was tense, beads of sweat dripped from his brow, and his hands shook in nervousness as he squeezed the ambu bag covering Carter's nose and mouth, breathing for him. Todd's wide eyes gave away the shear terror he was feeling as Luka bolted to Carter's bedside.

"What happened?"

"He didn't look so good." Todd's voice quivered. "His color… he looked kind of dusky, and his fingernails were getting darker. He wasn't breathing much."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried to. But Mani…"

Luka scanned his short term memory and instantly felt bad. "Yes, you did." This did nothing for the kid as he was scared shitless. "You did the right thing. You're doing just fine Todd," he reassured him as he examined Carter. "Okay, why don't you stop and let's see where he's at."

The outline of the ambu bag mouthpiece remained around Carter's mouth and nose as Todd finally put his tired arms to his side. Luka took note of the color of Carter's skin, nailbeds and gums as he watched for spontaneous respirations. They were so shallow they were almost unnoticeable. After a couple of minutes the color again started to drain from his face.

"**_Carter_**," Luka roughly rubbed Carter's sternum with his fist, "Come on, wake up. It's Luka." No response. Opening Carter's mouth, Luka carefully inserted a tongue depressor and moved his tongue around checking first to make sure that there wasn't an obstruction. Then he pushed the tip all the way back in the throat until Carter gagged just the tiniest bit. "Okay Todd, bag him again, just like you were."

"What are you going to do?" Todd asked nervously, his hand cramping and confidence tiring.

"I don't know."

Todd's eyes bugged out of his head, his shoulders rose slightly and he increased the speed at which he was squeezing the bag as he realized that he was the only one doing anything for Carter.

"_Slow down_, slow - - down," Luka whispered to him, directing his attention over to the corner of the room with his eyes. "You have an audience." There backed into the corner with the same stone cold look on his face was Mbuto. His hands behind his back, he was simply observing. Like a cat out a window on a dark night, he stood like a statue, his eyes fixed on the action - not entertained by it, but rather mesmerized as he kept safe and disconnected behind the nonexistent glass between them.

"What about Mani?" Todd asked quietly as he continued his rhythm with the bag.

Luka looked down and hesitantly shook his head. "I'm sorry. There was nothing anyone could have done."

For a moment Todd felt as though his own breath had been stolen from him. He had left the soccer field to check on Carter - left the children he had been put in charge of.

"What's going on?" Maggie had heard Luka shouting for Carter to wake up and broke away from another patient to find out what was going on.

"His respirations are depressed. No response to painful stimuli but he does have a faint gag reflex."

"Posturing?"

"No. Only moderate signs of CNS involvement - so far."

"Tube him?"

"No. Whether we tube him or not someone still has to bag him, and he seems to be doing fine with what we're doing." Luka noticed Maggie's apprehension at Todd doing the bagging. "Todd found him and bagged him on his own."

Maggie raised her eyebrows, then winked at Todd trying to get him to relax a little. "Saved his life, eh?" She put her hand on Carter's bare chest and felt the warmth of his skin. "It's too bad we don't have any of those wonder drugs anesthesiologists have. A post anesthesia respiratory stimulant would be perfect."

Luka's head shot up at the mention. "A respiratory stimulant," he almost shouted. "**_SEAN_**." He definitely shouted that, and within seconds Sean was around the curtain. "Sean, where is that box we got from Chicago with the party supplies?"

"I dunno. I haven't seen it since the party and frankly I was too bolloxed to notice who cleaned up."

"We have to find it." Luka ran out of the clinic, through the hanger doors and straight to the kitchen of the Midway where he found Toomay and her daughters comforting Joseph. His adrenalin filled mission to find the box suddenly came to a halt as he found himself privy to the private family moment. "I'm… I'm sorry," he stuttered at first as he realized that the fractured family was missing one person. "I was looking for…" Scanning the kitchen for the box and not seeing it, Luka turned around and tried to quietly leave the Bisango family.

"Luka," Toomay called out to him, "please, come back." She was sitting on a chair, Joseph on her lap with his head tucked into her chest. "Please talk to Joseph." Her eyes were pleading with him. "Please?"

Luka walked to the center of the kitchen and pulled another chair up next to Toomay's. He had to cock his head to try to get a look at the boy's face. "I'm sorry, Joseph. We'll all miss Mani." Joseph turned his head even more away from Luka. "Are you mad at me?" He took the silence as an affirmative answer. "Mani was hurt very, very badly. Some things just can't be fixed and he was just too broken to fix."

Toomay kissed her son's head and spoke soothing words to him in their French/Lingala. Joseph finally turned to Luka and let the doctor stroke his back.

"Joseph, I want to talk to you about this some more, but right now I have to go take care of Dr. Carter."

"Is he broken too? Can you fix him?" His voice was innocent, his accent fresh and his plump brown cheeks tear stained.

"Yes, he's broken too, but with the right medicine I can fix him. I promise."

Toomay laid her hand on Luka's and thanked him with a smile. "What is it you're looking for Luka?"

"A box. A box that came from Chicago with things for the party."

"Ah yes. It had medicines in it. I put it in Dr. Carter's office."

Luka ran back to the hanger, this time entering through the back door nearest the office. There, neatly stacked in the corner, was the box. When he found what he was looking for he charged out into the clinic back to Carter, grabbing something from the desk on his way out.

"Dopram," Luka announced as he held the vial up for Maggie to see. "I forgot that Elizabeth had put in a CARE package of her own of recently out dated meds."

"This is perfect, only, it's expired and I'm not sure of the dosage. Are you?"

"She shipped it with cold packs and it's been in the air conditioned office. Those dates are premature anyway. As for dosage," Luka pulled a small narrow book out of his back pocket, "I found Carter's cheat book."

"Can someone please…"

In their excitement, they forgot about Todd who was quickly getting worn out from the continuous bagging. Maggie took over giving Todd a chance to sit in a chair next to Mbuto while Luka looked up the dosage for Dopram.

"What is that stuff?" asked Todd.

"Doxapram. It's used to stimulate respiration in patients with drug-induced post anesthesia respiratory depression or, in this case, drug overdose. We just don't use it much in the ER so we'll have to look it up."

"Okay. Let's start with a single IV injection, then go to IV infusion over two hours." Luka checked the dosage in the book again and purposely did the math out loud watching for Maggie to nod in agreement as she checked his figures. "1mg per pound would be about 200mg. The vial is 20mg/cc, so his initial dose would be 10cc." Luka drew up the 10cc and slowly injected it into the port of Carter's IV. As they were waiting for a response, Luka grabbed a 250cc bag of normal saline and dextrose and injected the remainder of the Dopram into it, then changed out his existing bag of fluid careful to titrate it carefully to run in gradually over the next two hours. "Sean, find whatever oxygen we have."

After a few minutes, Carter's eyelids moved and rested at half mast, partially revealing his glassy eyes. This time as Luka checked his responses with a sternal rub, Carter moaned slightly as he arched his back and drew in his free arm. His respirations became more spontaneous and Maggie replaced the ambu bag with an oxygen mask.

"Now, we watch him carefully," Luka told Maggie and Todd with a measure of relief. "The Dopram is only a temporary fix since it metabolizes faster than the narcotics, but the slow IV infusion should give him a consistent minimum dose, without over hydrating his kidneys, until the narcotics are out of his system. Just keep an eye on his input and output." Luka made a notation on Carter's haphazard chart that one of the nurses had started. "We have to be careful and should probably draw blood samples every couple hours to check his BUN and creatnine."

"He has renal problems too?"

"Not since the stabbing, but we should be cautious."

Luka and Maggie stood back and relaxed knowing that it was just a waiting game.

Todd's head dipped down in relief exhaling a long, shaky breath.

"You okay?" Luka asked.

Todd nodded without raising his head to meet Luka's so that the doctor wouldn't see the lone tear that had escaped. What Luka did notice was Mbuto's hand reaching over to touch Todd's face, catching the tear as it slipped from his cheek. The boy who had been so devoid of emotion then gently laid his head on Todd's shoulder.

Toomay brought the doctors their dinner as they waited for Carter to wake up. Being that it was the night before the weekly supplies arrived and food was low, it wasn't much, but they weren't very hungry anyway. Luka and Maggie hadn't said much to each other, neither one wanting to admit their guilty feelings.

An occasional breeze came through the open windows tossing the cords for the blinds around, the plastic tips tapping on the windows. The red rays of the setting sun cast eerie shadows on the floor of the clinic as it peeked in through the glass and caught the cords flapping around. Maggie left the area but returned quickly, putting supplies on the rickety, old mayo stand next to Luka's chair. With some gauze and antiseptic solution she started to clean the abrasions on Luka's cheek left by the branches of the tree earlier in the day.

Luka winced as the antiseptic stung. "That's really not necessary."

"Yeah? Well I happen to disagree."

"I'm not surprised."

Both exhausted and drained, they managed a mutual smile. Luka let her finish what she was doing.

At the same time each blurted out, "I'm sorry…"

"Look, Maggie, I should have told you about Carter first thing."

"And I should have trusted you."

"When you two have finished kissing and making up, could you get me some water?" Carter's voice was very horse but improved over the last time he attempted to talk.

"How are you doing?" Maggie asked.

"I don't know," he managed to get out around his intensely dry mouth, "you tell me."

"Your shoulder should be okay. We'll get you over to Gulu as soon as you're feeling up to it to get an x-ray." Luka instinctively began to check Carter's eyes and head until Carter pushed his hands out of the way enforcing the rule that doctors _do _make the worst patients. "Can you sit up? I want to check your lungs."

With help from both doctors, Carter managed to sit upright, groaning through the pain, as Luka listened to his lungs. "Deep breath. Again…"

Carter's eyes rolled back as he struggled to keep the room from spinning too fast.

"Again…"

Sitting hurt. The stethoscope skipping around on his back hurt. Hell, the gravity from being vertical slumped his bruised skin on his face downward making him feel like he was experiencing a reverse facelift at that very moment. It was so hot and humid and even though he was wearing nothing more than a sheet he had an urge to strip down to nothing, but that would mean actually moving - with purpose - while spinning and blurry eyed.

"Once more…"

Carter's face turned a pasty white as the last deep breath, or the deepest he could muster, caused his stomach to roll and turn inside out. "I'm going to…" With only nanoseconds to spare, Todd grabbed a porcelain basin and shoved it under Carter's chin. His empty stomach churned as only acid crept its way up and out. The heaving only produced more pain as his muscles contracted and twisted. He reached out for the water that hadn't yet made its way there wanting so badly to put out the fire that now raged in his bruised throat, the stomach acids assaulting it even more. Before he could bitch to them he bit his tongue yet again and spit the blood into the pan along with his retchings. Again, his stomach heaved, dry heaved, stretching every sore muscle in his chest and neck. His hand reached out as he drew his legs up in a panic, his lungs unable to reach a compromise with his churning stomach. It didn't help that the smell of his previous cookie toss was right under his nose, so with what little strength he had, he batted the metal basin to the floor.

"Okay, okay, just calm down," Luka put his hands on either side of Carter's head ignoring the patient's weak grip he had on his arm. "Close your eyes. Breath."

With one hand, Maggie held the oxygen mask over Carter's mouth and nose while gently, but firmly, keeping her other in the middle of his back for support. He groaned as he worked to suppress the vomiting - and it _was _work. He was exhausted. Taking on all of his dead weight, Maggie and Luka finally laid Carter back down.

"We'll put sandbags on each side of your head. That should help the vertigo," Luka told him gently as he motioned for the nurse to fetch the bags. "The vomiting will eventually subside. It's one of the unfortunate side effects of sudden heavy narcotic use in…" Luka trailed off hoping that Carter was too woozy to care.

"I know," Carter managed, "in drug addicts."

Another nail in Maggie's guilt laden coffin as she straightened Carter's sheet out.

Carter pushed the oxygen mask aside. "I have to pee."

"Go ahead. Just go."

"You catheterized me?" Carter knew his old friend Mr. Foley, but it didn't seem like he was kicking around down there.

"No. I didn't want to introduce an avenue for infection. You are sporting a very manly external catheter." Luka grinned, as Carter squeezed shut his eyes in part embarrassment, part humility as he let his stream of urine flow into the bag. "You need a good night's sleep. How about some Ativan, just enough to take the edge off, maybe help with the nausea a bit?" With his approval, Luka added the Ativan to the orders for the night and within minutes of the first dose, Carter was asleep again.

The nurses were done with their evening duties and returned to Carter to settle him in for the night. When they were done taking vitals, changing the urine collection bag, administering another dose of IV steroids and hanging his evening round of IV antibiotics, they pulled the mosquito netting around the bed.

Luka's ass already hurt from the hard chair he had been relegated to for so long and it was evident to him that Maggie was feeling the same as she shifted around across the room from him. "You should get some sleep."

"We both should," she answered. "Look, I'm on call tonight anyway. He'll be okay. We have other patients, so there will be nurses here all night. And besides," she thumbed to the corner, "I don't think Carter will be alone." Todd was still there sound asleep, his head tipped back against the wall, with Mbuto curled up next to him, his head in the young man's lap.

One more look at Carter and Luka walked towards the curtain, turning around intent on taking Mbuto back to Toomay and his own bed, but he instead decided to leave him where he had sought out comfort. "Please get me if…"

"I will," Maggie interrupted. "Now go get some sleep while I'm still on talking terms with you."

"Okay," he grinned, "I think I'll hit the showers first. It's Sunday."

The open area of the clinic was empty and only a few of the inpatient beds along the walls were occupied. Two volunteers were wrapping Mani's body and preparing it for burial, a missionary couple standing close by in prayer. His mother sat in a chair right next to the table that held her son, rocking back and forth as she stroked his foot that peaked out from the sheet. Luka closed his bloodshot eyes as his brain took him back to the first visit he made to this very hanger. He remembered the woman and three children sitting to the side. The woman who rocked back and forth comforting the dead baby she cradled swaddled in her arms. He turned his head to that exact spot and opened his eyes, realizing it was the same curtained area he had just walked out of. A few more feet away he stopped in his tracks as an explosion rocked him, catching him off guard. Only it was all in his head and the child in front of him was his son, not Mani. Those memories came like snapshots now, only taking advantage of his exhausted and troubled mind from time to time. He had simply learned to take a breath and move on.

Luka stopped in his room long enough to grab a pair of sweat pants and his one and only favorite towel, marked in big letters - some faded away, PROPER Y OF OOK COU T OSPITA . Sunday meant that the showers belonged to the doctors and nurses for that day. _Carter will be mad he missed it_, Luka thought. The heat in the hanger was stagnant at best and not much better once he exited the building. He had to walk quickly to evade the bugs that came out at night to feast on the flesh of the humans and was quick to get into one of the three portable showers closing the door behind him.

_They don't make these things for tall men, he thought as he ducked down to catch the cold water on his hair and face. He soaped up and rinsed quickly but instead of leaving right away, leaned back and parked his worn-out body against the wall of the cubicle not caring about how the frigid water made him shiver. It felt good anyway. But he looked forward to the day he could luxuriate under warm water and shave with a razor instead of a lame-assed battery powered Norelco. This was the one place he could go to be alone without someone knocking on his door and barging in with a question or an emergency. He savored as much of it as he could until he worried about the water going to waste. _

He dried off, stepped into his sweat pants, draped his towel around his neck and headed back to the clinic intent on getting some sleep while intermittently checking on Carter, no matter what Maggie said. There was sporadic lighting at the camp, modern day electricity with only a few times so far that they had had to rely on back up generators. But on this side of the hanger, from the front to the back door where the office and doctors' rooms were located, there was only one light fixture, with one bulb and it was mounted directly over the door. There was no moon that night and as Luka stepped out of the shower stall, combing his fingers through his wet hair, he saw a figure dart into the back door. At the same time, a gust of wind howled down the dirt alleyway that made up the corridor between the large tin hanger and make-shift auxiliary buildings. His towel shifted off of his shoulders and onto the ground picking up the dirt at his feet. "_Oh crap_." Well, it was only dirt. Reaching to pick it up, he ran to the door ahead of what might be another African dust storm thinking about how his dirt covered towel would have to be washed first thing in the morning. Maybe he could bribe Toomay into doing it.

The door slammed behind him and he nearly had a head-on collision with Colleen.

"Fancy meeting you here." Luka didn't mind running into the red head.

"I was going to check on John, but I didn't see you, and it seemed awful quiet in there, and…"

"In that?" Luka asked nodding his head at her chest.

"What?"

"In that. Just a t-shirt?"

"Oh, well, it's huge. I mean like a dress, sort of. And I'm washing my… things…"

Her face was inches from Luka's bare chest, still glistening from the lousy job he did of drying off. As she lowered her eyes so as not to appear to be staring, she found herself looking at the waistband of his sweats which were obviously too loose as they barely hugged his hips. His well tuned muscles rippled slightly and as she continued her gaze downward, she couldn't help but admire the little fine line of curly black hair that made its way from his naval straight down in between the curves of his groin just above the waistband.

"Everything looks good." Luka mentioned.

"Hmm?"

"Carter… _John_? He'll be fine."

"Oh, good. I'm relieved to hear it." Colleen fidgeted a bit as she motioned to the door. "Well, I guess I'd better get back to…," she trailed off.

"Get back to _what_?" Luka laughed.

"Laundry," she admitted. "And you have something better to do?"

Luka shrugged. "I was going to shave. I suppose I wouldn't mind some company. The day hasn't been very, well, encouraging."

"Okay."

Colleen followed Luka into his little bedroom that housed nothing more than a bed and a crate for a nightstand. She watched from a sitting position on the bed as Luka took out an electric razor and started shaving.

"You always miss that spot there," Colleen pointed to an area just in front of his right ear.

"No mirror. Here?" he asked unsuccessfully moving the razor to that side of his face again.

"Um, no. Here." Colleen stood and took the razor from Luka finally getting the spot. She liked the feel of the vibrating Norelco in her hand and continued with absolutely no complaints from him.

Colleen was taller than most of the women he had been with and she had no problem reaching his face. After she'd sweep the Norelco over one section she'd stop to feel the skin with her hand to see how close she got. Luka enjoyed the feel of her silky fingertips as they skirted around the curves of his face. Eventually she lingered with her hand letting it trail off behind his neck, tickling the sensitive area under his ear on the way. Luka exhaled and closed his eyes almost involuntarily. He dipped his head down and met her lips while wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her into him. The natural heat intensified between them as he explored the soft, moist insides of her mouth. She tasted like the apple juice they got in mass quantities. Tart. Sweet. Warm. As they pulled away from each other, slowly, the delicate skin of their lips stuck together briefly, and they lingered that way until Luka finally grinned, breaking the seal.

"I see you like music," Colleen gestured to the CD player against the wall.

"Mmm. A well meaning person left that for me last night."

"Now I'm interested in hearing what the last thing is that you listened to." Colleen moved to the CD player, sat on the floor, and turned it on.

"No - you're not." Luka blushed and chuckled nervously as she pressed the 'play' button.

Colleen listened for a moment as Luka leaned against the wall, his arms behind him, his head abashedly tipped downward. "I expected Bob Seger, Dylan, maybe the Stones, but not…," she looked up at him as he finally raised his head.

"But not opera? Hmm?" Pushing himself away from the wall, he sat on the floor in front of Colleen gently pushing away a lock of her red curls that had fallen in front of her eyes and tucked it in back of her ear. "You don't find it sensual?" Luka took her hand and put it on his chest just to the left of his breastbone. "Your heart doesn't pound with the emotions of the music? You aren't drawn in by the angry drums and the sad violins?"

"I guess I never paid much attention to it." Her voice quivered just a bit as she slowly moved her hand over Luka's chest. "Tell me about it."

"Okay. Just don't tell Carter." He laughed a little, playing with her fingers. "I don't really listen to it a lot. But this opera, _Norma_, by Vincenzo Bellini, was my mother's favorite. Bellini was a brilliant Italian composer who died at the peak of his career when he was just 34. Can you imagine? So young. Every year it was performed at the Croatian National Theater, this enormous old building in the city. My father was a train conductor on the Zagreb route and once a year we all got dressed up to go to see _Norma _and went to work with him. My dad would say, _It's time to go check up on our good friend Norma_." Luka laughed as he recalled his childhood. "I loved to sit and just watch my mother's face as she laughed and cried. Each time was like the first time for her. This piece, _Casta Diva_, was her favorite. She hummed it when she was doing housework."

"Why this opera?"

"I don't know. It's a tragic story about a Druid woman who falls in love with the enemy, a Roman, and even considers killing her children she secretly bore with him, to keep from having them taken back to Rome as slaves." Luka's voice quieted as he gave Colleen's hand a gentle kiss.

"Tough day for kids?" she intuitively asked.

"Tough day for mothers."

"Luka, I'm sorry about being so insensitive and taking pictures of you guys treating that kid."

"I think I was the only one who was bothered. Some days are just harder than others. Don't worry about it. How long will you be in camp?"

"I leave in the morning on assignment."

Luka tried not to look too disappointed.

"But it shouldn't be for long. I'd like to come back here if that's okay."

A knock at the door brought them to their feet. There was no one on the other side of the door, but when he stepped back to shut it Luka saw a brown bag conveniently parked in the center of the doorway.

"I guess the music was too loud," Colleen remarked as Luka shut the door.

"Um, no, I don't think so." Luka smiled widely as he first took out a CD of jazz music, then two small sample bottles of wine. Something else was in the bottom of the bag which he turned upside down and shook. Out plopped a strip of condoms.

"Is that what I think it is?" Colleen asked.

"Yes, I believe lifted from the HIV education packets we hand out to the refugees." Luka opened the door again, sticking his head out and turned towards the clinic area. "Thanks Maggie."

It was awkward as both tried to think of ways to bridge the moment and get back to the pleasantries. Colleen changed the CD, Luka opened the wine and they both glanced at the condoms.

"Where were we?" Luka asked playfully as he imbibed on a healthy portion of the wine. It tasted great, even if it did come with a screw cap. Better than the beer, the apple juice, the bottled water. Red wine always made him feel flushed and added to the already sweltering night air, and his state of arousal. He suspected that Colleen was catching on, especially after she put hers down and sat on the bed next to him.

"You mean where were we after talking about your mother? Or, where were we after did this?"

Luka could feel the heat of her passion even before her lips connected with his. This time the kiss was fiery and they knew it would not stop there as their hands traveled over each other's body stopping only to remove what little clothing there was. First off was Colleen's t-shirt. Luka had to consciously pull away from her mouth so as to enjoy the moment as he slowly hiked the cotton shirt up over her hips, breasts, shoulders, then finally over her beautiful head of silky red curls leaving her only in a pair of white lace panties. As he planted yet another kiss on her plump lips, he traveled the tips of his fingers down her throat, over the ridge of her collarbone, finally stopping at her breasts as he circled around the dark areola causing her to inhale deeply and throw her head back.

Luka took advantage of this, trailing his lips down her exposed throat, tasting the pure whiteness of her soft skin, then gently laid her back on the bed as he made his way to her breasts, suckling and teasing one with his mouth, while fondling the other with his hand. Ever the talented physician, Luka continued titillating her with his mouth while discreetly letting his hands wander down to her moist panties. Colleen moaned at the slightest touch as his fingers stroked her through the lace before finally making their way inside the fabric rocking her to orgasm that she had no intention of minimizing out of bashfulness.

As she lay momentarily exhausted, Luka completed his job, taking down her panties and laying small sweet kisses on her engorged hills and valleys.

"Stop," she blurted out as she panted. "_Stop_!" She grabbed both sides of his head and giggled as she tore him away from his admiration pulling him back up the length of her naked body where he rested himself on his elbows planted on each side of her face. "Something isn't right."

"Shhh. You talk too much." Luka put his finger on her lips, then began kissing her - tiny kisses - on her forehead, her eyes, nose and chin while his fingers played with her curls. The sexiness of the jazz - the saxaphone, piano and brush stroked drums - covered the little noises they made and lent itself to the overall lust filled atmosphere of the tiny room lit only by that one light bulb over the door to the building outside Luka's open window.

Colleen explored every part of his smooth chest and back before finally sneaking under the waistband of the loose fitting sweat pants, her fingers just barely able to reach his soft cheeks. "The playing field is uneven."

Luka slipped off of her and stood, but before he could undress, Colleen sat up on the edge of the bed and did the honors herself undoing the knot in the waistband and pushing the gray sweatpants down off of his hips, catching it briefly on his erection before finally exposing all of him directly in front of her face.

Luka held her head as she leaned forward and reciprocated the kisses and caresses he had already bestowed upon her. She hungrily took the length of him in her mouth and gave him pleasure he hadn't felt in so long. Before he knew it, she had opened one of the condoms and unrolled it over him. Suddenly, he practically pushed her back on the bed, and entered her sharply as they both gasped. The sweat acted as a natural lubricant as their bodies moved rhythmically, her breasts slipping over his chest, her taut nipples tickling him.

Without losing ground, they changed direction leaving Colleen in control atop Luka's hips. She teased him as she pulled away making him reach for her. Luka's hand finally found her weakness and as they matched their movements he brought her to an earth shattering crescendo. She arched her back and put her hands on her breasts as her body tensed and rolled inside. Luka reached up and put his hands on hers then interlaced them palm to palm as she turned her attention to him looking him deep in his eyes while lifting and lowering herself on him finally letting him grab her hips and control the speed before pounding into her as he came. From somewhere deep inside he could feel the stress and anxiety of the day explode as the sweetness and soothing of the woman on top of him replaced it. His own head was thrown back as he moaned and held his breath for what seemed to be too long. When he came up for air, Colleen was collapsed on top of him, her face nestled in his neck. The music had ended, the creatures in the distant trees and insects of the night were the only sounds they heard now, except for their own deep breathing.

* * *

Luka was jolted awake by the grinding of truck gears. The sun barely peaking over the horizon, he had slept for hours without waking - a first since his arrival. He could still smell her even though she was gone. The little wine bottles were empty, his pants in a heap on the floor. His towel had been pushed into the corner and picking it up he saw that more than just dirt had soiled it. A big splotch of truck oil had settled into the fabric. It was ruined, he wasn't careful enough. He quickly put on a pair of jeans and a shirt before slipping into his shoes and running out to try and catch Colleen before she left camp.

He barely caught himself as he tripped on the fresh supplies parked in the hallway outside his door. Outside of the hanger the sound of the truck drew his attention to the main gate where it stopped picking up a redhead wearing shorts with a backpack strapped to her. He waved, but she didn't look back.

In the trash can outside the door, Luka pulled out a newspaper, the _Sunday Vision _from Kampala, the driver had obviously thrown out. It was a day old, but the news was fresh to him. He made his way through the clinic and picked up Carter's chart at the nurses desk where the head nurse, a very seasoned and head strong African woman, was setting up for the day.

"How is our Dr. Carter this morning?"

"His vitals are stable, keeping down water but still quite uncomfortable," she spouted with her choppy accent as she looked over her reading glasses. "But he took off his catheter by himself, refused an enema and sponge bath and is generally a pain in my rather large ass."

"He's doing fine then, Sera?"

"Apparently."

"Thank you," Luka gave her with a smile as he walked around the curtain to Carter's bedside where he found him sitting up propped by pillows.

"It seems you have hurt Sera's feelings by refusing her traditional enema and sponge bath," he jokingly told Carter as he gave him a cursory exam. "How are you feeling today?"

"No, no. How are _you _feeling today," Carter mocked with a sly grin, his voice still raspy. "Whoever told you that opera was a chick magnet?"

"How did you know?"

"Please. You think I slept much?"

"Hush. I don't want you to get over tired." Luka sat down in the chair next to him with a cup of coffee Sera brought him.

As Carter laughed and joked about the night, Luka lost himself in the front page picture of the newspaper he had just unfolded. He read it two, three times before believing what he was seeing.

"What?" Carter asked, finally realizing that Luka hadn't heard a word he said. "What is it?"

Before Luka could hide it from him, Carter reached over and pulled the paper back far enough so that he too could see the picture. The color drained from his face and matched the pallor of Luka's.


	12. Chapter 12 Silent Chambers of the Souls

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Twelve**

_**

* * *

The most important of life's battles is the one we fight daily in the silent chambers of the soul.** -David O. Mckay  
**

* * *

**_

"What?" Carter asked. "What is it?"

Before Luka could hide it from him, Carter reached over and pulled the paper back far enough so that he too could see the picture. The color drained from his face and matched the pallor of Luka's. Carter looked away and momentarily thought that the drugs were causing him to hallucinate. Maybe this was some sort of side effect of the Dopram. He couldn't be seeing this. Swallowing hard, he looked back at the newspaper almost expecting to see something totally different. But he didn't.

"What does it say?" he asked Luka, his stomach beginning to sour again.

"It's nothing." Luka folded the paper in half and started to get up not sure himself what he intended on doing. "Just a picture."

"Luka," Carter shifted and reached his good arm out towards the paper. "Please. Don't… just don't keep it to yourself."

Luka stepped back over to Carter's bedside, opened up the paper and reluctantly read the headline over the picture.

_**A NEW LEADER ON THE RISE**_

Luka stopped and glanced at Carter to see what his reaction was. Carter was sitting straight up away from the pillows, his eyes darting back and forth just slightly as he took in the news. "Don't stop," he spoke almost under his breath.

"You sure you want to hear this?"

"Just read it."

"_After years of civil unrest and in-country brutality between warring factions, the Democratic Republic of Congo sees a new leader on the horizon._" As Luka moved his hands down the side of the paper, the top half flopped over, the picture in question now right in front of Carter, upside down. He couldn't help look at it and even tilted his head a bit to right the image in his mind. As if he needed to. "_Raised by missionaries after his parents were killed, Jules…,_" Luka halted as he said the name, and cleared his throat. _"… Jules Akonda-Bouche came home to his people after obtaining a degree in Psychology from Cambridge University in England. Though his history of strong handed leadership is questionable to some outside of the country, the Congolese people are ready for someone to take the reigns and have apparently appointed one of their own_." Having read enough, Luka folded the paper back up and threw it on the table. "This is bullshit."

"Questionable?" Carter groaned as he laid back in the bed, his back giving him a challenge. "They didn't appoint him. Maybe they bowed to him out of fear, but they didn't appoint him. Nobody _appoints _a terrorist to lead them."

"I know," Luka exasperatingly put out at the same time, a sense of defeat in his voice. Carter wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know.

They remained in silence, together, both deep in thought. Luka sat in the chair bent over, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at his clasped hands. Carter lay on his side rubbing his forehead trying to sooth the headache that had come on. They knew what each other was thinking. There was no need to speak the words aloud. They had made it this far without bringing up the fact that what they had left behind in the Congo was a man who embodied pure evil and that to gain their freedom they paid him off with nothing much better than a cashier's check from Bank One on North Wacker.

They had talked about it back in Chicago with each other. A few sentences here and there. An obligatory session with Psych when they were first admitted to County. But they hadn't counted on being neighbors with the guy who relished inflicting physical and emotional pain on his captives, and who now was being hailed as a hero by the people he manipulated and controlled, all while the rest of the world looked through dark colored glasses.

So the two sat there in their own little world oblivious to the sounds of the camp waking up around them. The clinic lights were all on now, the windows thrown open and the chatter of staff came and went outside Carter's curtained off area.

"Good morning!"

"Coffee is on, but don't blame me. _I _did not make it!"

"How many traumas today? Who wants to make a bet?"

"One, two three, four, five, six… We have six inpatients for rounds."

The voices were fresh, some accompanied by laughter. The day always started this way and slowly went down hill as the heat intensified and patience waned. Some talked right outside the curtains, other voices came and went like traffic on a busy street. But none of this registered with Carter and Luka as they lived inside their heads for the moment.

"I already took vitals. It's your turn to do labs."

"Good morning Paulette. Good morning Othiamba. We have supplies to put away."

"Slow down, the floor was just mopped. We can't afford to lose another worker."

"Who left the gloves and syringes out last night?"

"Were the packs done?"

"How's the patient today?"

"Hello. Hey." Maggie cleared her voice. "I said, how are you doing today?" It was obvious to her that she had intruded on something, although it was hard to tell what since Carter and Luka were stone cold silent and wrapped up in their own thoughts. She started to back out thinking that with the crisis over they were now ready to really hate her for what happened the previous day.

"Will you be okay?" Luka asked Carter as he stood. "I should get to work."

Carter nodded without moving much. Luka understood and walked out, barely registering Maggie's presence as he brushed by her.

"Carter," she took just a few steps forward trying not to barge too much into his space, "I'm really sorry about yesterday. I didn't know, and if I had then…"

"I need to get out of this bed and get back to work." Carter interrupted her.

"Not so fast. You haven't been cleared yet and," Maggie opened his chart to begin her morning exam, "you've a ways to go before you're at a hundred percent again." Carter had nothing to say to this making Maggie even more self conscious. "Okay, look, I understand how you might feel about … things, so I'll just have Kovac take care of you." She put his chart back on the table and turned to leave.

"Wait. Maggie." Carter groaned as he pushed himself back up to a sitting position with his one good arm. His struggle grabbed Maggie who stepped over and helped him with the last and most difficult part before getting vertical. "I don't blame you. I blame me." Carter sat on the edge of the bed, his feet dangling to the side, hesitant at first to get into the past. "A few years ago something happened…"

"You don't have to tell me."

"Yes," Carter put his hand out halting Maggie. He was on a roll. "Yes, I do. Do you remember Lucy Knight? A med student?"

Slowly it came back to Maggie. "Yeah. The over eager, goofy kid. Boy was she annoying."

Carter grinned briefly as he remembered Lucy's initial ineptitude, but quickly let the smile slide off his face.

"You two didn't…"

"No… well, with the exception of that one momentary lapse in judgment…"

"Uh-huh."

"… in the exam room…"

"What, you?" Maggie joked sarcastically, "boffed a med student?"

"No, _no_. I came to my senses. And Chuny banging on the door kind of helped." They laughed together, even though Carter's bruised larynx made him sound more like a wounded bird.

"Anyway, there was a psychotic patient, a very large knife, a dark room…"

Luka had slipped in and was standing behind Maggie.

"And he stabbed you?"

Carter nodded and held up two fingers.

"Twice? What were your injuries?"

Carter looked through Maggie at Luka who was waiting to relieve Carter.

"Initially we had to manage the massive blood loss," Maggie was unaware that Luka had been standing there and spun around, "but it was getting away from us. Up in the OR they found he had lacerated his left kidney, renal artery and large intestine. There were complications during surgery which led to more surgery down the road."

"I, ah, had to deal with a lot of pain in my back and legs," Carter snickered, "and inside my head. So I relied on pain meds - heavily. I used whatever I could get my hands on, eventually mainlining leftover Morphine, Demerol… Fentanyl - whatever was convenient."

The silence among the three of them was palpable, Luka finally stepping up. "Here, I brought you some clothes. Thought you might want to start moving around. But one more dose of steroids, okay?" Carter's IV had been discontinued earlier and the catheter left in with a hep lock. Luka flushed the port, then slowly injected the steroids.

"Jesus, that stuff burns," Carter moaned as he flexed his hand and grimaced in response.

"I know. I'm sorry." One more flush and Luka removed the catheter from his arm, then taped a small piece of gauze over the site.

Maggie couldn't help but notice the surgery scars on Carter's chest as Luka helped him get a t-shirt on before repositioning the immobilizer they had fashioned out of sheets and elastic bandages.

"So what does Lucy Knight have to do with this?" she finally asked.

"Sobriki - the guy - was Lucy's patient." Carter was glad that he had to stop talking long enough for Luka to help him with his pants. "He used the same knife on her before I came in the room."

"Lucy? Well, did she…?"

Luka shook his head terminating that particular line of questioning.

"And what's the deal with the Congo?"

Carter wasted no time leaving the clinic area, each step producing sharp stabbing pains in his lower back.

"Dr. Luka," Sera stepped in to clean up and prepare the bed for another patient, "that Mr. Tyson is whining for you. Something about the new supplies not matching the invoices."

"Okay, I'll speak to him tonight," Luka told her as he ditched the offending newspaper in the wastebasket.

"No, you talk to him now." Sera blocked his path out. "I do not want that skinny lizard marching through my clinic barking at my nurses." Luka wouldn't have been able to squeeze between her large body and the desk if he wanted to.

She had a point and Luka was not going to get much further without admitting defeat. "I will take care of that right now." Sera still barricaded his exit. "I promise. And you're beautiful when you're mad, you old girl."

"Yes I am," she spouted as she stepped aside. "There is a lot of beautiful in this body, but you are not getting any of it, Dr. Luka. No, no." Luka walked out and heard Sera continue on as she started working on the bed. "Now, Dr. Carter, he be a different story. _Yes sir_."

Maggie followed Luka out into the clinic, stopping first to take the newspaper out of the trash. She hadn't seen the news in a couple weeks and was tired of reading the inserts from the drug bottles for entertainment.

"Sometimes these things get backordered, Mr. Tyson," Maggie heard come from the office as she walked by on her way to get some much needed sleep.

"There is not one B/O on the invoice, Dr. Kovac. I'm not an amateur here, really."

Maggie slipped into her little room, shut the door behind her and crashed on her squeaky framed bed. Long night. Very long night. Carter had slept on and off and only very lightly at that. He wouldn't hear of Maggie babysitting him and shooed her off, but she didn't go far, propping herself up at Sera's desk most of the night sleeping even lighter than Carter, his grunts and groans prompting her to check on him frequently. At one point he had managed to turn on his right side exposing his scarred back. As she was changing out his IV she paused long enough to form an objective medical opinion about the long thin scars that ran diagonally over his skin. They were very different than the two wider shiny scars to the left of his spine. Now she knew how they got there, but the other ones were very different. She'd only seen those a few times on kids that had been abused with electrical cords. But these were somewhat fresh, not from childhood.

The paper had been opened on her lap and Maggie even thought she had read a paragraph or two, but her mind was playing exhausted tricks on her. She threw it on the pile of old magazines she'd picked up in Kampala on her way there. It would be added to the long list of intended reading.

That night at the Midway, the family table was quiet. No Colleen telling stories of her assignments, or Bob snickering in the background. When Toomay finished serving the meals she excused herself to the kitchen where she and the children were spending some private family time together. Carter was the last to arrive and slipped in hoping to go unnoticed. What _he _noticed, however, was the sudden silence that fell on the normally animated dining hall. His first mouthful of fumbwa had little taste to it as he carefully mulled it around his still tender mouth. The second wasn't much better and he quickly washed it down with a gulp of water. This was Toomay's fumbwa, not a better vegetable stew on the planet, but that night it tasted no better to Carter than paper. Luka was quiet. Either introspective after the morning's reading of the headlines or, as Carter suspected, he was missing Colleen.

Carter played with his food, pushing it around with his fork while looking at the staffers and college student volunteers who spoke uncharacteristically in hushed voices, their heads close together. What were they saying?

"So Othiamba," Carter rattled with his raspy voice hoping to keep his attention focused, "how come you're here in this hell hole instead of on the President's special detail?"

"I want to go to University in America," he replied somewhat bashfully. "I saved up my money, but I don't have a sponsor there or a university scholarship. So I thought that I would get to know you all, maybe gain some experience first."

"Hell, I'll sponsor you," Carter gave him with a grin. "You'd certainly be a welcome addition to most colleges back home. What do I have to do? Call an embassy? My congressman?"

"Thank you, Dr. Carter. But," Othiamba shifted in his chair and hurriedly gathered his dishes for the kitchen, "I have to change my plans. Maybe not now. I can go another time."

As he rose to take his dirty dishes to the kitchen, Luka grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Othiamba, why can't you go to the states now?" Luka was fishing and he knew where the big one was. "Why the change?"

"I like it here. I will stay as long as you do," he said, evading the question with a forced smile.

"Othiamba, did you spend all of your money on the bus?"

His secret exposed, Othiamba rationalized his situation, though it really wasn't a lie. "It made me happy to do that for the camp. This is what I want, Dr. Luka. It's okay." Othiamba made his way out of the Midway with his pride intact, the doctors humbled.

The sound of a vehicle brought Luka to his feet as he made his way over to a window.

"All day you keep looking out at the gate," Sean gave him turning around. "It won't make her get back here any quicker."

"It's just Bob," Luka mumbled disappointedly as he shot a look at Sean.

Bob came in the Midway and put a 12-pack of beer on a chair before pouring himself a cup of coffee and taking his usual place at the table. "Good to see you up and around," he gave Carter with a pat on the back - one which sent a ripple of pain through him. In the past he had been the master of hiding pain and he was remembering well how to do it. It was something akin to getting back on the horse or the bike.

"What's with the long faces?"

Luka opened the box and took out a bottle, tossing the cap back in the box. _Clank_.

"Luka is waiting for his Guenevere to ride back into Camelot," Sean said in retaliation for the dirty look Luka had given him.

"Mm hmmm." Bob concentrated on his hot coffee. "She left on one of her 'assignments'?"

"Yes," Luka answered as he sat back down next to Bob, "early this morning. And she said she'd be back."

"Did she take all of her things with her?"

"Yes."

"Well then, Sir Lancelot, I wouldn't count on it. It's not her M-O."

That was cold. It was cold and unexpected as Luka exhaled and slouched in his chair.

Carter hadn't eaten much of his dinner and was relieved that Toomay wasn't there to scold him. As he walked past the staff tables to the kitchen pass-through with his dirty plate he couldn't help but notice the hushed chatter and darting eyes. He pretended not to see, played ignorant and smiled politely at the workers on his way back to the table while secretly feeling their eyes on him.

"Let me ask you something." He stood in back of the chair across from Luka and held on to it with his one free hand as he bent over slightly to keep things private. "Does everyone know?" he asked accusingly.

Luka looked around, careful not to draw attention to himself, but perplexed at Carter's sudden paranoia. "The staff? The students?"

"Well, yeah. Them." He pointed his finger in the direction of the other diners as though trying not to be seen. "I'm not stupid here, Luka."

Luka didn't know what to say. He had been dealing with clinic issues all day including Norman, and his mind was obviously elsewhere. He didn't know what the staff was thinking about. He shrugged his shoulders.

"They know about your past drug problem, yes," Sean chipped in matter-of-factly. "Word gets around and there were a lot of people in the clinic yesterday."

"Great. Just **great**." Carter slammed the chair into the table and charged out, brusquely grabbing a beer bottle from the box on the way. The moment wasn't lost on the people in the dining hall as the sound of the banging chair and crash of the screen door drew their attention to the camp administrator storming out in a rage.

Luka excused himself from the table. Sean quickly followed.

"I can handle this," Luka said to Sean, turning around to halt the man from tagging along.

"Absolutely. You are his friend and I understand that. But his outburst just became a camp issue and that's _my _business."

They found him sitting on an overturned barrel behind the Midway, his back propped on the tree in back of him, the beer resting on his right knee. He was staring down either at the ground or the beer bottle. Luka gave him a moment before stepping in front of him holding his hand up to Sean to give them some time alone.

"You okay?" Luka struck a relaxed pose as he stood against the tree opposite Carter, his hands in his pockets.

Carter didn't move - his eyes glued to the earth between his feet. "Relatively speaking."

"Want to talk about it?"

He shrugged his good shoulder.

"Feel sick?"

No answer.

"Are you still in a lot of pain?"

His head didn't move, but his eyes skewed up at the taller Luka. "Do you have any more stupid questions?"

"You going to drink that beer?"

"No," Carter stood and walked a circle around Luka and his tree, "because I can't - - - **_open it_**." With that he threw the bottle as hard as he could into the brush, shattering it against a rock, nearly throwing his already awkward body off balance in the process.

Luka remained calm while Sean quietly entered the picture, sitting down on the now vacated barrel, neither one of them wanting to be the next to open his mouth. The noise of the breaking glass brought a concerned Toomay to the doorway of the Midway kitchen.

"Perhaps you should talk to the staff," Sean spoke. "They look to you for direction."

Carter stopped pacing long enough to comb back his hair with his fingers. He was taken aback by his shaking hand and quickly shoved it in his pocket. "I don't think I'm in very good shape to be presented to them as their leader. Huh?" An acerbic chuckle escaped from him. "Would you trust me?" He was breathing heavily and making faces as he picked his pacing up where he left off. "I don't know what's **_wrong _**with me." He beat his fist into his thigh almost to make sure he was still coherent.

"Carter, I think this is just a temporary reaction to the sudden heavy exposure to the drugs."

"No," he put his finger in the air feigning clarity, "no, see I was fine this morning. And… and this afternoon. It was that damn newspaper. I was fine until… but that was this morning. He's what made…"

"_Carter_," Luka suddenly pushed himself away from the tree and stood very close to Carter, his mouth just in front of his ear. "Toomay is right over there. I don't think she knows about the paper." He gently, but forcefully, put his hand on Carter's shoulder. "Please, don't talk about it. Understand? Not here."

Carter glanced over at the Midway's back door and nodded. He thought about Joseph - the loving father, husband and friend - and how he went to such great lengths to get the Vancomycin to that little girl. How he played with the children and was so affectionate towards Toomay. And what he looked like face down in the jungle, hands swollen and tied behind his back, his head half gone. And the sinking feeling it gave him when they left his body to rot in the middle of nowhere. Seeing Toomay in the doorway reminded him of when they had to tell her about Joseph. Another reason to feel sick. Carter slunk to the ground, Luka careful not to let him tip over onto his shoulder.

"What is going on? Why do I feel like this? And those people in there are just looking at me and talking about me. They don't know me. "

Luka kneeled down in front of him. "Carter… John, think like a doctor. Just for now, huh? I don't know, this could be a reaction to the pain or just lack of sleep. But, sometimes drug addicts - ones who have been addicted to opiate-based narcotics - can experience withdrawal-like symptoms after a sudden single very heavy dose of opiates, even after years of sobriety. You know this. Right?" Carter nodded and wiped his clammy face with his hand. "You know the symptoms. Depression, irritability, restlessness, insomnia, cold flashes... paranoia."

"No kidding," Carter tried to joke. "I'm freezing in the middle of Africa in a draught."

"It won't last more than a day or two. You just have to get through this. You've done it before." Luka didn't miss the look of hopelessness on Carter's face. "And you won't be alone."

"_Joseph_, _no,_" Toomay shouted. The boy ran out the door as Mbuto stayed somber at Toomay's side.

Joseph ran to both men and squatted down to look into Carter's eyes. "Dr. Luka, you said that you could fix him."

Carter was trembling - cold and embarrassed, in pain and in turmoil as the little boy slipped under Luka's arm and into the unstable man's lap.

"I'll be okay, Joseph. I just need to get some sleep." Carter pulled him into his chest comforting himself as much as the child. The harder he held him, the less he felt his tremors. "Now, you go get another game of football in before bedtime and I promise you in a couple days I'll be as good as new. That tree just got the best of me."

Toomay reached down to lift Joseph up out of Carter's lap. "I'm sorry, John."

"It's fine. Don't worry."

Mother and son were headed back to the Midway leaving a very quiet and studious Mbuto standing next to Carter who had pulled his knees up to his chest, his head sunk between them. He'd curled up into a ball trying to get warm, trying to squeeze the odd uncomfortable feelings from him. The boy's hand on his head prompted Carter to look up, and for the first time that day he felt just a small bit of solace - ever so brief. It felt almost as if a little bit of heat radiated from Mbuto's hand and a wave of calm washed over Carter's face.

From his pocket Mbuto took out a large gold colored play coin. He looked at it, smoothed his fingers over the well worn words on it and, taking Luka's hand and opening the fingers, placed it in his palm. The boy who had so little to say, closed Luka's fingers around the coin and held his large fist in his two little dark hands.

"My papa, he give me this good luck." His English was very rough, but he was determined to finish what he was saying as his big brown eyes connected deeply with Luka's. "He say I give it to person who does good and needs it more than me. You can fix Dr. Carter now. Yes?"

Luka held the coin tightly and looked into the well meaning child's eyes. Should he take it? Probably the only toy he owned that he had secretly brought with him all the way from that jungle on the side of the mountain where he had been placed in the hands of the two freed doctors by his rebel father? Almost instinctively, Mbuto tightened his grip on Luka's fist.

Luka took his free hand and laid it on Mbuto's cheek before kissing his forehead, then rose to his feet. "I will take good care of it and save it for someone with as much goodness in their heart as you."

It was a simple act that touched Carter and gave him motivation to get back on his own feet and move on. A deep breath and Luka anchoring him at his elbow, and Carter made it back up albeit with his head spinning. There leaning against the front corner of the building looking on was Todd. He had seen it all and waited for Mbuto to reach him, then took his hand and walked the boy to the soccer field. Before turning the corner, Todd looked back over his shoulder, quickly, but just enough to catch one last look back at the doctors.

It was quick, but Carter didn't miss it. "Was that pity or disgust on his face?"

"How do you know it wasn't just concern?"

Within a couple weeks, Carter was feeling better but was less animated and much quieter. He even took some of his meals in the clinic office, with Norman no less. The camp was back on course and things had quieted a bit. Even Bob commented on the lack of chatter and disruptions among the insurgents in the northern sector. There hadn't been any new refugees in a few days and those that camped out on the eastern airfields had even begun talking about going home, though Sean discouraged any immediate plans.

Luka had gotten a handle on the supply situation and the inventory was going smoothly since the debacle with the delivery. Norman took a few days away in Kampala to catch up with the Foundation by phone. And the weather was less severe with a couple nights of calm rain to cool things down.

Sean had two new doctors rotate in from other Alliance camps to give Maggie, Luka and Carter some time off. From time to time he would convince these worn out volunteers to "vacation" at the PCRC and to them it _was _a vacation considering the clinics they had come from. Some had "done time" at a Ugandan prison strife with Hemorrhagic fever, AIDS and TB. Others came from deep inside the jungles of the Congo and the deserts of Sudan where their clinics were with even fewer supplies and staff than the one in Ikela.

Carter took advantage of the quieter atmosphere in the region and left with the Land Rover almost daily. Sometimes he'd be gone for just an hour, picking up test results at the hospital or transporting patients. Other times he'd be gone all day. When he drove back into camp after dinner he didn't stop in at the Midway to see if there was something to eat. Instead he headed right into the office.

"Been spending a lot of time out of camp," Luka mentioned to a surprised Carter who didn't see him sitting on the window ledge behind the door.

"It's something to do. Haven't been much use around here." Carter sat on the desk and mindlessly played with Norman's pencils which had been left in a neat row.

"Seeing patients in Gulu?"

"I'm keeping busy." There was a comfortable tension in the air.

"You going to the Art exhibit tomorrow?"

"What?"

"The staff is having an 'art exhibit' after dinner. There's an invitation on the board in the Midway."

"Oh. I guess I haven't been there much lately."

"I know. The volunteers will be making pieces of art from whatever they can find. Dress is 'formal' and original hats are encouraged. It should be fun."

The bright orange of the setting sun put the room aglow. Carter squinted through it as he shifted his seat to avoid being blinded. "How come you haven't taken advantage of the rotating docs Sean got? You could have taken off to Kampala for a few days."

Luka shrugged his shoulders and continued staring out the window. A group of refugee women walked underneath it and giggled as they waved at the Croatian doctor.

"You've got it bad, huh?"

"What?"

"Sean's right. She won't walk through that gate any quicker with you always staring at it."

Luka smiled and dipped his head. "It's that obvious? You heard Bob. She took all her things with her. She probably won't be back. She's got her job and…"

"And maybe you're letting what Bob said get to you." Carter stood and opened a drawer. "Besides. She didn't take _everything _with her. She left this here." Carter tossed a CD to Luka before leaving the office and going to his room.

Luka remembered it being in Colleen's backpack. It was one of only three CDs that she carried with her. Blues and jazz. Luka walked over to the desk and inserted the disc into the player then went back to the window ledge. He sat there sideways, his leg propped up on the ledge, his arm and chin on his knee.

_(Lyrics to a few lines of Lost Mind sung by Diana Krall and written by Percy Mayfield James previously properly attributed, deleted as per new regulations by site administrators 5/3/05. The complete original text of Pocket Change can be found at LUKAFIC)_

Luka smiled as he listened to the sultry song as he dragged his thumb over his lip remembering the feel of her kiss, of her silky skin and golden red curls. A deep breath and his eyes were closed lost in another world of Colleen and how she smelled, talked, laughed, loved.

_(Lyrics deleted)_


	13. Chapter 13 Dance Back to the other Side

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**_Chapter Thirteen_**

"What the hell happened to the IV lines?" one of the nurses called out as she frantically bustled through the clinic. "Sera. Help!"

"Calm down." Sera was rushing to get the last of the outpatient's discharged. "We will find what you need, but you cannot be taking anything from supply. Dr. Luka will have your head and then you will have nothing to put that silly hat on." The charts were piled at her side ready for filing. "Who is manning the clinic tonight, Dr. Maggie?"

"Um… it's supposed to be Dr. Carter, but he hasn't gotten back from Gulu yet." Maggie had just finished vaccinations with a new family. "I guess I'll stay on again. The relief docs haven't had a night off all week. They only have a couple more days left and if we want them to come back, I'm not going to piss them off."

"He was a lion again this morning."

"Carter growl at you?"

The portly African nurse put her hands on her hips as she held her face in a curtly pose. "He holds a grudge, that man does. Didn't like me taking care of him."

"Don't take it hard, Sera. I think he's a little embarrassed about the '_personal' _care you gave him while he was unconscious." Maggie got a rise out of the strong willed woman.

"I am a professional. I would not take advantage of him. At least not while he was unconscious." The woman laughed as large as her frame. "What are you going to do, Dr. Maggie, when they go," Sera asked pointing to the relief docs at the coffee pot. "It will be like we only have two doctors."

"I'm sure Dr. Carter will finish up what he's doing in Gulu by then." At least that's what Maggie hoped.

"Going to the party?" the older round nurse asked Maggie. "Got yourself a hat?"

"Sera, I have the mother of all hats," she boasted as she spun around in the office chair. "I helped young Todd make hats with the kids this morning. They are really excited."

Standing on the steps of the Midway, wearing a hat fashioned from a case of beer, Sean reveled in his role of appointed master of ceremony as he opened the festivities with the brilliant flair of a fifteenth century herald, elongating the words and rolling the R's.

"Erudite noblemen, scholarly gentlewomen, common folk and honored guests … I bid you welcome to the PCRC first annual Art Exhibit where the extraordinary talents, skills of inordinate minutia, and wasted use of precious free time is on display for all to gaze at… and ponder with this question: _what are we doing here and who the hell used the last of the toilet paper_?"

The waiting crowd below laughed and cheered Sean on as his drawn out Irish brogue was a tip off that he had already sampled the refreshments.

"As you enter the gallery please notice that each piece of artwork has been valued and priced for your shopping pleasure. After much dancing, partaking of refreshments…" Sean held up his open bottle of beer as the crowd cheered again, "… and many a trip to drain the snake, we will hold an auction where you will be able to bid on a few select pieces, but you may wish to save your precious bobs until the very end when the most valuable piece is auctioned: a brand new, unwrapped roll of aforementioned… **toilet** **paper**." One brand new roll of TP graced the palm of his hand as he teased the crowd in front of him.

Oohs and aahs circulated through the gathering as he paused only long enough to down the last of his beer. "That reminds me," he said playfully holding the empty bottle up in front of his face, staring through the amber glass with one eye shut at the on-lookers, "a word to you though, you **all **cannot be circling the Shannon tonight as there is a camp to staff tomorrow!"

With that, the doors were opened and the assembled group of staff members filed into the Midway. Loud and laughing, they moved around the perimeter of the dining hall pointing at each other's '_art'_. There were Coke bottles filled with different colored sand and dirt, the top stopped with a syringe. Someone made a bouquet of balloons from blown up exam gloves - each with a face drawn with marker that coincidentally resembled a doctor on staff. A paper chain was made from the disposed catheter wrappers. Someone with evil intent took a large piece of cardboard and, with markers, designed a place setting of yummy delectable western food of cheeseburgers, fries and milk.

The hats were just as creative: bedpans, cervical collars, crowns made from cans that the institutional foods came in. Toomay won the most praise as she wore a colander fastened with IV tubing under her chin, donned with banana frons and indigenous flowers. Maggie's mother of all hats was an empty exam glove box decorated with paper strips of blue surgical drapes flowing down her back, a lovely array of empty pill bottles affixed on top with surgical glue and one lone silver eye shield on the front for effect. Luka stared at her, finally breaking down unable to maintain his composure any longer.

"What?" Maggie offensively asked him, "I worked hard on this you know."

"Little over the top, don't you think?"

"You're just jealous." Maggie pointed her nose skyward as she shuffled past a chuckling Luka to the refreshment table.

Luka glanced at the sculpture on the table next to him. A figure of a man made from a Fleets Enema box and wire. Price - "_one load of laundry_".

Carter drove through the gates of the camp moments before sundown, just in time. Traveling on the roads in the dark alone was something he avoided at all cost. The clinic in the camp was something else he'd avoided almost equally as well for other reasons. At first he was startled by the lack of populace milling around as was common as folks settled in for the night. But then he remembered about the party in the Midway. Perched around the porch railing were several empty beer and Coke bottles. The lights were blazing and as he got closer he could hear and feel the music. He was about to turn around to go to his room when Luka stepped out on the porch.

"Coming in?" Luka asked knowing full well that Carter was once more placing himself in his comfort zone just slightly outside the box.

"No, I, ah… I'm on tonight in the clinic. Late already, so…" He gave a half baked smile and started back towards the hanger.

Luka walked down the steps but stopped short of getting into Carter's personal space. "The workers have something for you. Can't you just come in for a minute?"

He stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath before turning back to do the right thing. He as much as ignored Luka, nodding uncomfortably as he walked by him towards the stairs.

When Carter got within a shoulder's length of him, Luka finally spoke up. "John, we should talk."

With his one free hand in his pocket, Carter turned slightly but didn't stop. "It's okay. I'm okay. Things are good."

But Luka knew better.

The party goers bustled as Carter entered the Midway, chortles and giggles erupted. He was ushered by each elbow to the front of the hall and made to stand on top of a crate.

"It is with great honor, full pleasure and way too many beers," one of the staffers announced, "that we present to you, Dr. Carter, this very special Pakwach Congolese Refugee Camp crown which designates you as Lumberjack of the Day."

A hat made from twigs, branches and wire looking quite a bit like a tree was put on Carter's head. Within the branches of the 'tree' was a miniature kite. Cheers erupted as Carter played along, not so reluctantly though as he got quite a kick out of the humor.

"Speech, Speech!"

The illuminating heat lightening flashed through the windows giving Carter an eerie sense of camera flashes aimed at him. As he put his hand up to mockingly wave at his 'fans' he almost wanted to shade his eyes from the non existent cameras.

"Thank you. Please… thank you." He exaggerated clearing his throat for effect as he mirrored the tipsy revelers' cockiness. "I would like to thank you for this… this … mark of distinction. I know it's been a tough couple of weeks and I've not been, well, as affective as I should be. But I am on the mend and I look forward to continuing on with our journey." The people had quieted as Carter let himself open up. "But I suppose I owe you an explanation. It all started over thirty-three years ago in a suburb of Chicago. I was but a sparkle in my father's eye…"

"Boo… _Boo_."

Luka looked on curiously as Carter was quickly brought down from the make-shift pedestal. He was perplexed with Carter's quiet introverted return to camp, then sudden change to life of the party. As the music began and the students tried goading Carter into joining their Conga line, the two doctors' eyes met from across the room and, very briefly, Luka felt that spark of friendship they had built go out relegating him to mere spectator status.

Carter had a ball joking with the staff. Hell, it had been the only thing he'd done right with them lately. He was sure he could keep it up - at least for the duration of the night. As he stepped off the crate he caught Luka's eye and instantly knew that he owed him an explanation. But no sooner had that happened than a figure appeared behind Luka. Although he thought he smiled at her, Carter's face drew down. He had an inexplicable feeling of … of… not quite jealousy, but…

"I understand a hat and formal wear is required here."

The voice just behind his right ear was unmistakable, as was her scent.

"I have the hat, but what I've got on is as good as it gets."

As her arms wrapped around his waist from behind, Luka turned around and put his hands on either side of Colleen's face stroking her cheeks. "I believe what was meant by 'formal' was actually 'clean'. And you certainly look clean enough to me." It's hard to kiss while smiling, but Luka did. "Mmm. And you taste clean enough to me." He moved his hands up into her hair and buried them in the mass of long curls, giving and receiving a deeper, more sensuous kiss. "When did you get back?"

"Just now."

More small kisses as Luka let his finger slide down the back of her neck just barely touching the skin. "Where are your things?"

"In your room. I hope you don't mind."

Now with his whole hand behind her neck, he pulled into her tightly, his lips crested just above her ear. "Just promise me that next time you leave, you don't take everything with you."

As the children paraded around the room with their paper hats on, the floor was cleared for some dancing of the more grown-up variety. Colleen turned back around hugging her back into Luka's warm chest as he kept his arms tightly around her middle.

"We have all night and then some." Colleen moved her hands over Luka's strong arms while tipping her head back to speak with him. "John kind of looks all alone. Why don't I ask the one armed man for a dance?"

Luka followed the direction of Colleen's concern over to the side of the room where Carter stood, still wearing his hat, but choosing to watch instead of join in. "That would be nice. I'm sure he'd appreciate it, but just one."

Carter held the wall up, so to speak, while watching the children walk around the room, all proud of their creations atop their heads. Joseph, Tolo and Mbuto made points of hiding little waves with their hands as they walked by Carter. They giggled and pointed to his hat, evidence that they were in on the secret as well. Paulette stood by Toomay, probably too old to join in, but nevertheless just as giddy as the younger ones. Although she spent a fair amount of her time helping out at the clinic, Paulette had befriended Todd and the two spent time together talking about their homelands and dreams. Both kept from their homelands, both kept from their dreams, but for very different reasons.

Carter watched as Paulette stole away from her mother and quietly - quite innocently - took her place next to Todd who had kept to himself in the corner. He knew who was there without even looking in her direction, and gently took her hand in his behind his back. The gesture Carter was sure the young couple had assumed had gone unnoticed made him smile.

"How about a dance?"

He hadn't noticed the music had gone from reggae to slow standards, nor had he seen Colleen walk into his secluded thinking space. He didn't answer her, but instead nodded in Luka's direction sure she had overstepped herself.

"With Luka's blessing." Colleen grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the floor where a few other couples had already laid claim.

With one arm immobilized to his body, it was awkward, but she worked around it and managed. It didn't bother her. Carter could feel her long red curls as they brushed his cheek. It was hard not to be aroused and he pulled his pelvis away from her to get some comfort room.

"I need to ask you a favor," she softly whispered into his ear. Her breath tickled, and as he reflexively tilted his head, his cheek inadvertently brushed against her silky forehead. "I need a doctor to go with me tomorrow to a village and vaccinate a few families, maybe check them out."

Carter stepped back, giving her a baffled look. "There are clinics all over now. If they can wait just a bit, our satellite clinic on the other side of Pakwach will be open."

"No. These are people that are afraid for their lives if they leave their home. I came across them today on my way back here and stopped to take some pictures. Please, John."

"Shouldn't you be asking Luka?"

Colleen put her hand in the small of his back as she moved closer to whisper. "Would you take your lover to work with you?"

This made Carter laugh, not consider the meaning. "How do you know I already haven't?"

"Luka wouldn't understand. Besides, I hear you like to get away every now and then."

Carter remained silent. He didn't want to say yes. Didn't want to say no. Didn't want to hear any of this.

"Please John. Either way you can't tell Luka. Mixing jobs together kills relationships."

"No. I'm sorry." He smiled while her refused her, trying to be polite. "I have to say no. I really think you should ask Luka." He eyed the door intent on making a respectful get-away.

Carter abruptly ended their dance in time to be pushed into a card game by Danny, one of the college students.

"Come on doc, we need a fourth for Hearts," he boasted as he shoved Carter into a chair and handed him a beer.

Hearts. He hadn't played that in quite a while. In fact, the last time was with Abby, Chen and Pratt while they were quarantined. The three kids at the table were having a great time, had probably had a little too much to drink and were definitely serious about their cards.

"Come on Dr. C., three cards - pass left."

Carter looked down at the cards in his hand. Not a pretty sight. A few high cards, the dreaded queen of spades and the rest all over the place. He picked his three and pushed them face down to the gal on his left. The two of clubs was pitched and the game was on, but Carter noticed something strange about the deck.

"You do know you're playing with a marked deck," he said as he pointed out the peculiar holes in some of the cards.

"They aren't marked, Doc. It's just Buzby's odd way of having some fun," Danny clued him in. "Just don't let him shoot the moon and the cards will live to see another day."

Carter dredged his memory for the strategies of the game. Always hold something high until points have been broken. The queen of spades is worth thirteen points, the rest all one each. Get all the points, twenty-six, and you have shot the moon giving twenty-six points to all of the other players instead. The low score after the first reaches one hundred wins. Not hard. Kind of fun.

"**_OH!_**" The kids all laughed as Carter threw his Queen of spades on top of the three lower spades. "Oh doc, you ate the queen!" They made munching noises as they took advantage of the lull to tank up on more beer. Carter's was untouched in front of him.

Luka and Colleen were in the middle of a romantic slow dance. Sean and Maggie were the only other couple on the floor.

"Maybe we should be good neighbors and switch partners for the rest of this dance," Luka whispered in her ear.

"Um, no. I really don't want to dance with her," Colleen returned as far under her breath as she could manage.

"Huh? She wouldn't dance with _you_."

"Well she sure as hell ain't going to dance with you. And believe me, she's only being nice to Sean. Actually I can lay money on her wanting to dance with me, or Toomay, or Sera or with any woman before you."

Luka pulled his head back so as to look Colleen in the face as he mulled over this last bit. It took a minute before he caught on. "Oh, you mean… Maggie… _Maggie_?"

Carter wasn't totally out of the running yet. Almost, but not dead yet.

"Karalee 3, me 8, Buzby 25 and bringing up the rear is Dr. C. with 57," Danny announced from the tally sheet lingering over that last score.

Carter decided to become invested in the next hand. Play hard, play to win , but it was evident right by the fourth card toss that Buzby was on a roll, throwing everything high and taking the points - all of them.

"No… _no_…," Danny shouted as he stood away from the table, the last of their cards finally making their way onto the pile of points claimed solely by the brash student across from Carter. "Buzby's doing it… doing it folks," he announced. "Stay clear, _Buzby shot the moon!"_

Karalee took the cue and pushed her chair away from the table, the legs roaring across the wood plank floor. Carter curiously looked around at the players as well as the other students who came over to watch who obviously knew what was about to happen. All of a sudden Buzby took out a very large double edged hunting knife, stood up, and with two hands lifted it up over his head and plunged it deep into the table through the pile of cards right in front of Carter's face. His hand was flat on the table and he could feel the vibration of the steel as the kid let go of the knife handle. The glint off the blade as the lightening brightened the dark sky with a flash through the window pierced Carter's gaping eyes. Startled, Carter stood so quickly his chair fell backwards.

As the crowd laughed at what must have become a tradition in their nightly card games, Carter's heart raced, even skipped a few beats. He had to remind himself to breath and to stop staring at the shiny silver blade impaled in the wood table top. Grabbing his beer, he quickly made his escape through the people and finally the doors.

"Ooh. Edgy." Colleen quipped as Carter breezed past them.

Luka watched Carter's exit and followed him through the doors.

He didn't realize he had been holding his breath until he reached the night air and gasped. By the time he took his next big breath of air, the night insects dive bombed into Carter's wide open mouth and throat. He gagged and leaned over the railing to spit them out.

"Sick?"

"No." Carter took a huge swig of the beer, swished it around his mouth and spit it out.

They stood there on the porch in silence for what seemed like an eternity before Luka finally stepped over and leaned on the railing next to Carter. "I'm sure the kids didn't know," he tried to reassure him.

"Yep. I know."

"You want to talk about it?"

Carter didn't want to talk. He didn't want to play victim or patient anymore. Instead he drank down the rest of what remained of the beer and lined the bottle up with the rest that had dressed the porch railing.

"Look Carter, why don't I go into Gulu with you tomorrow? It wouldn't be a bad idea for me to meet the staff there anyway."

"No."

"If you want to stay here, I can go for you…"

"**No**. Luka _please_. I'm fine. I like being busy and I am capable of doing it without an escort."

Luka felt like he was back at the beginning. Back in Kinshasa when they first landed in the Congo with a pissed off Carter.

"Carter, I think you need some time to…"

Carter pushed away from the railing and walked back inside the Midway leaving Luka alone.

Colleen wasn't hard to find, being the only tall red head without a hat on. Carter strolled up to her and without much fanfare, gave her his change of mind. "I'll do it. I'll go with you tomorrow."

"And you'll keep this our secret?"

He met her eyes and nodded before turning around and leaving the Midway for one last time that night.

* * *

The party was winding down and Colleen and Luka could hear the raucous 'bidding' as they held each other after the second round of lovemaking. Her head was nestled in his neck, her arm over his chest and knee drawn up over his hips.

"I like this." Luka stroked her hair and planted a kiss on her head. "Like two puzzle pieces that fit together."

"You do fit me well," Colleen giggled.

They held each other and recovered from the marathon of sex that created more steam, more heat and friction than was already in the humid jungle air. The sweat between them didn't evaporate and instead lingered on their skin like a long lasting lubricant. Colleen used it to draw circles on Luka's abdomen, every now and then purposely tickling him.

"Will you be leaving tomorrow?" Luka wanted to prepare himself this time for her absence when he awoke.

"I have a bunch of busy stuff to do in town."

"And then?"

"Then I come home."

It was nice to hear her say that, not that the PCRC was homey. "As long as home is where I am, I can deal with that." He loved her energy, her assertiveness, her mystery, her raw sensuality. "I love… I love being with you."

She gave him a warm squeeze, but said nothing.

"What do you miss about your real home, the states?" he asked.

"Hmm. Snow. I haven't seen snow in a few years."

"Don't you go back to Boston?"

"God, no," she dismissively hacked out. "I, ah… I home base in the south, although I'm not really there all that often."

"You don't sound like you're southern."

"What? You're now an expert on dialects?" She jokingly slapped his chest. As she pulled away from Luka and reached for her backpack, the warm air rushed over their wet skin. Luka shivered with a chill as he separated from Colleen's natural body heat. She took a book from her pack and then pulled a photograph that had been carefully tucked between the pages. She looked at it for a moment first before putting it in Luka's hands. It was a school picture of a little girl with long red hair. The spitting image of Colleen.

"I miss her the most. She's my daughter, Amanda. Nine years old."

Luka paused and looked between the picture and Colleen. It could be her twenty-five years ago had the clothes been different.

"Why aren't you with her?"

"I know. I heard it all. In fact, I make sure that I regularly flog myself over my decisions, but I'm just not cut out for it."

"She's with her father?"

"No. Her grandmother. He and I were divorced years ago. We're both too involved in our careers and vain enough about our success to be parents. She's better off."

"You talk much?"

"When I can. And I see her whenever I can get back to the states." The unusual look of sadness faded as she perked up and focused back on the face of the little girl. "She's something. Pretty proud of her old lady too."

By the time Luka rolled out of bed in the morning, Colleen was gone once again, and as promised, most of her belongings were still in Luka's room. He smiled broadly as he walked out of his room to get something to eat at the Midway.

"Hey Maggie," Luka caught up with her as she herself exited the hanger, "is Carter up yet?"

"Up and gone. He took Miss Fancy Pants into Gulu. Ya know, he took call last night, I hope he got enough sleep."

"Hopefully he won't stay long. He usually doesn't after being on-call."

* * *

They drove for a couple hours before turning off on an unmarked road leading to a parking area next to a foot bridge. Carter was a little leery when he saw armed men waiting on the other side, but trusted Colleen enough to at least follow her to the steps of the bridge, where she told him to stay put so that she could negotiate passage with the men first.

With nothing but the body of the rickety bridge between them - and it was quite long over the narrows of a river - Carter tried to see what Colleen was doing with the men. Lots of talking, gesticulating with the hands and then she took some things out of her pockets to give to them. When she turned and pointed at Carter, one of the men shook his head with his hand outstretched. Putting her pack down, Colleen took something out and handed it to the man who, when satisfied, waved Carter over as though it was business as usual.

Carter picked up his backpack of medical supplies and crossed the bridge, making sure that his Alliance ID was around his neck and obvious to anyone looking at him. The wood planks chattered under his feet and as he grasped at the slack rope railing with his sweaty hand he wondered if he could coordinate his awkward one armed body to the end. He felt like if he stopped or turned around, he'd fall off. The closer Carter got to her, the more nervous he became but his feet kept moving anyway.

The heat intensified and was in a race with the humidity to see which would first be likely to kill. It had been a while since he had been away from the open airfield of the PCRC and roads of northern Uganda and for a moment the luscious green growth and wild animal sounds wrapped their arms around Carter bringing him to a stop. One, two, three… he counted to himself. A deep breath and he opened his eyes to find himself still on the dirt path, the sun now only able to peek through the big frons of the trees. One of the men poked him with the back side of a machete to get him moving again making him self conscious as he jumped.

Colleen was quite comfortable, happy, smiling all while these men surrounded them with guns slung over their shoulders and a couple even lazily pointing them in their direction. He stayed with her and it became obvious as they walked far into the jungle that these men would be staying with them, at least for the time being. Carter listened to them talk with each other, looked at their faces when he was sure they weren't looking, then finally it dawned on him.

"Hey Colleen," he whispered into her ear trying not to get the attention of the gun wielding men, "are these guys rebels?"

"Well, yeah," she gave him almost sarcastically.

"They're Mai-Mai?"

"Right on the money, Carter. You've done your homework."

"Let me ask you one more question. Are we in the Congo?"

"Yep. But you can drop the article. It's just Congo. Not _the _Congo."

A grammar lesson now? They were surrounded by rebel troops in the country he and Luka had been kidnapped in and Colleen was worried about semantics? Boy, he thought, she is all business.

After a couple hours of walking, they finally got to a clearing where it was obvious by the tire tracks that vehicles frequented it. And they stood there. Some of the rebels sat on a log and lit up cigarettes. Others played with their guns - Carter hoped they were actually doing routine maintenance. But within an hour of their sitting, the larger man of the group pulled Carter over to his log and quite roughly made him sit down.

* * *

Day turned to night as Luka paced the perimeter of the camp waiting for the Land Rover to get back. Carter wasn't supposed to be gone this long, and he knew that he would have never stayed away longer than dusk. But now it was even long past that. And Colleen… he worried about her too although she was a bit more savvy about the area.

Bob's SUV roared into camp and stopped on the road just inside the gate to pick up Luka before heading off for the hangar.

"Did you find them?" Luka asked.

"Yes and no." Bob stopped the SUV and got out waiting purposely for Sean to join them before expanding on his findings. "That prick Norman back in camp?"

"Yes. Probably in bed."

"Okay, let's go in the Midway."

All the way up the stairs Luka thought the worst. Carter killed, Colleen kidnapped. What would be done to her? He thought about her little girl and having to get word to her.

With the door closed behind them, Bob continued. "Nobody has seen them in Gulu. They never stopped there as far as I can tell. And nobody by their description has been seen in the other nearby villages."

"So?" Sean rubbed his forehead almost not wanting to even know.

"So I had to get more people on it. The Land Rover was found in a remote area a couple hundred clicks from here. From what we can tell, it's been there since early this morning."

"Were they taken?" Luka asked.

"I don't think so. The Rover was parked and locked with no personal belongings left behind. But see, this is where it gets tricky. This is a well manned border crossing. If they went there, they went on their own."

"Border?" Luka abruptly stood up. "Congo? Well, we have to get them out."

"They went in without visas," Bob stood up to follow him as his anger coursed from one end of his body to the other, "and without UN escort. Luka, I just can't barge in there with a miniature sampling of commandos."

"So, we wait? We sit around and wait?"

"Yes. We wait, for now."


	14. Chapter 14 First, do no Harm

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**_Chapter Fourteen_**

After a couple hours of walking, they finally got to a clearing where it was obvious by the tire tracks that vehicles frequented it. And they stood there. Some of the rebels sat on a log and lit up cigarettes. Others played with their guns - Carter hoped they were actually doing routine maintenance. But within an hour of their sitting, the larger man of the group pulled Carter over to his log and quite roughly made him sit down. Pulling his pant leg up. The man exposed a large hunting knife strapped to his calf. Further up, though, was what he wanted Carter to attend to: A blood soaked bandage encircling his leg just below the knee. The man pointed to it a couple times and poked Carter with the back of his hand which still held a pistol.

"You, you, you fix," he stuttered.

Under the bandage Carter found a superficial, but long gash that had to have been at least eight inches long.

"How did this happen?" he asked not knowing if he could be understood. Dredging up the little French he had learned, he tried again. "Comment?"

"Machete." He snorted, then let out a gut rolling belly laugh with his cohorts.

Injuries caused by machetes - mandatory jungle tools - ranked right up there at the top in the Congo. Usually incurred as jungle growth was whacked at carelessly, Carter figured this leader probably had someone doing it for him, leaving the question as to how he acquired this laceration, or better yet - how bad off was the other guy. Carter didn't want to know.

"When…. quand?"

The man looked at his watch. "Cinq heures."

Five hours ago. He flushed it out, sure that the man would yelp from the sting of the antiseptic. He didn't even flinch. Not too deep. Carter could suture it. From his bag he took out 3-0 nylon suture material and a needle driver. The man understood and leaned back to give Carter room to work, seemingly unaffected as he swatted tse-tse flie with his hand gun. But when the syringe and vial of Xylocaine came out he stood abruptly. There would be no needles. No medicine. Sutures, yes. But no local anesthesia. Creepy.

"He wants me to do this _without _anesthesia?" he asked Colleen as the man took his seat again on the log next to Carter.

"Sure. It's not like he's got a lot of reasons to trust you yet," she told him as though with she knew the men well.

"That's decent of him." Carter's sarcasm was a cover-up for just how uneasy he was at sewing this well armed rebel's leg up sans numbing medicine and he truly felt less compassion than he would had he been putting a button on a coat.

Without warning, the man swung his leg up and over the doctor's lap giving him an adequate, if not intimidating, position to do his work in. Carter had to admit it was more comfortable on his shoulder, but he also felt like he was way too close to the man - and his knife - which Carter was not about to ask him to remove. Or the pistol in his hand. Or the AK-47 slung over his shoulder. Or the hand grenades strapped to his chest. So on that note, Carter chose to carry on and sew the man's leg up like a turkey cavity on Thanksgiving day.

Fast, with continuous sutures. That's how Carter proceeded. He looked at the man's face as the needle pierced the skin for the first time. No reaction. He didn't know if this was good or bad. He looked with a raised eyebrow at Colleen and continued on finishing the job in record time.

"What's your name?" Carter asked almost out of habit as he worked on his patient. "Quel est ton nom?"

The guy still didn't answer, didn't even look at Carter. Maybe his French was just as rusty as Carter's.

As stoic as the man was while getting sutured, this time when Carter flushed the closed wound with antiseptic he howled and jumped up from the log. Before he had time to react, several pick-up trucks appeared and whisked Colleen and Carter away all while treating them like houseguests.

The ride took a couple hours and judging from the terrain they bumped and shook over, Carter was glad that they hitched a ride, although his ass was sprouting bruises from the metal truck bed. What a different trip than the last time he hung out with Mai-Mai rebels in the back of a truck. No blindfolds, no getting his head repeatedly slammed into the surface and no fumes forced up his nose. Instead, the weapons were pointed down and he was smiled at, even patted on the back as evidently funny stories were told. He smiled and nodded his head to play along.

They had been gone from the PCRC now for seven hours and, doing the math in his head, Carter knew that this was definitely not going to be just a quick trip. Colleen rarely even acknowledged him and instead took pictures of the men and the small groups of people they passed by. She was all work. Finally the trucks pulled into a clearing off the main road where a group of about ten families were waiting, mostly women and children. He had enough vaccine for them, but worried that if anything else came up, his supplies were limited.

First out of the truck was 'leg-wound-guy', and with smiles on his face he held his arms wide to a woman and several children, obviously his. The rest of the rebel soldiers spilled out of the trucks finding their loved ones all while Colleen snapped pictures and worked the crowd like a press whore at a political gathering. Left on his own, Carter found a stump on the edge of the clearing and set up shop. Anybody in front of him would get a vaccination. He had enough MMR and polio for everybody and just enough chicken pox for the children. The mothers loved him, the children hated him, though they didn't put up half as much fuss as kids back home in the ER getting a simple throat culture. He quickly lost track of time as he vaccinated, fixed up minor scratches and scrapes, gave out drops for conjunctivitis, and even set a broken finger with a tongue depressor and tape. The first few children were leery of the colorful Band-Aids Carter brought from home, but soon they all wanted them and the Barbies, Spidermans, Barneys, and neon colors were all gone.

He was packing up the used syringes and empty vials when Carter looked around and finally realized that there were no buildings, no campfire pit even. In fact there was no evidence of permanent living at all.

"I thought you said this was a village," he asked Colleen walking behind her as she scoped out a possible photo through her lens.

"What I said was people in a village needed your attention."

"No, what you said was you needed me to _go _to a village with you because the people were _afraid of leaving_. I gotta tell you, they don't look too afraid right now, and this ain't no village." Carter pushed himself into Colleen's space as she packed up her gear. "Did you get what you came here for? Huh?" She put the rest of her equipment in her bag as well as a notebook, but ignored Carter like a fly on the ceiling. "Because I'm feeling kind of used here."

"Look, before you smack me up side the head with your prep school white-boy better-than-you attitude, you need to take a good look at these people and realize that getting basic preventive medicine is not as easy as it is for your Conservative money hording country club elitist friends."

"That's low," Carter mocked her with an ill smile as he moved uncomfortably close to her ear, "even for you."

"Would you have come if I'd given you a travel itinerary? Would Luka?"

"That just tells you how much you really know about me," he slung his back pack over his good shoulder, then for good measure threw in, "or Luka."

The crowd had dispersed and only leg-wound-guy and a couple others were left behind to guide Carter and Colleen back to the border crossing. Carter walked to the closest pick-up truck and hoisted himself onto the back just in time for one of the soldiers to scream at him and pull him by his one good arm off the truck bed bringing him to the hard packed dirt road with a thud. Instinctively, Carter threw his arms in the air in front of him, even his left one stuck in the sling, but they weren't lashing out at him. Rather, they were keeping him from something, or someone, in the bed of the truck.

"No, no you go," the rebel waved him away from a man covered nearly all the way to the top of his head with a tarp. Curiosity got the better of Carter as he looked the rebel in the eye and reminded him that he was a doctor.

"Je suis d'un médecin." As he climbed back into the truck and pulled the tarp off of the man, he recognized the uniform of the government military… and the ropes tying his hands together.

"Colleen," Carter tried to speak to her nonchalantly as he looked over the sick man, "if you can interpret French or Lingala, now is the time." He spoke very cautiously almost under his breath. "This is a government soldier, obviously a prisoner… or something. He looks sick. I need to know how long he's been like this."

Colleen conversed with the rebel and returned to Carter. "He's been in their hands for a couple weeks. He started getting sick four days ago. What's wrong with him?"

Carter pushed her arm away as she tried to pull back the tarp to get a better look at the man. "**NO**. Don't get near him, don't touch him." Carter was dead serious. "Do you understand?"

Pretty soon 'leg-wound-guy' was at their side wondering about the commotion. When he saw it involved their prisoner, his face became hard and he too attempted to get the two Americans away from their secret.

"Go… _GO_. No more doctor, no more photo," he forcefully ordered, but Carter sat down in the truck and refused to move, instead opening his pack and donning a surgical mask and exam gloves - doubled.

"Colleen, we need to get this man and anyone who cared for him to a hospital."

"Go **now**," the leader continued this time poking his gun at Carter.

"**NO**. Look I know you don't care if he dies, but if he has what I think he does, you are all at risk and need to take medication I don't have." Colleen tried to keep up translating into French what Carter was saying, but lost track as Carter and the leader spoke on top of each other with increasing anger and urgency. "He has to go to the hospital. He has to… Il a de la fièvre. _Il faut vous transporter à l'hôpital_." He figured it wasn't quite grammatically correct, but it's what he knew and he was trying to make a point.

The leader continued to rant about the two Americans seeing what they shouldn't have, making even Colleen jittery as guns were waved around haphazardly and voices raised.

"_I think it's Hemorrhagic fever_," he told Colleen, but she didn't seem to hear him over the voices of the ranting rebels. "**_Ebola_**."

Suddenly the voices quieted as the seriousness of the man's condition sunk in. Ebola - a universally feared disease. No translation required. As Carter surveyed the eyes of the men standing around he knew that control of the situation had suddenly fallen on him.

Colleen cleared her throat before being the first to ask questions. "Can he be saved?"

Carter shook his head. "He's already bleeding from almost every cavity. His organs are essentially melting away inside of him."

"Then can't we just leave him and get the families to a hospital?"

"No. I have to make sure that this is definitely what we're looking at. If it's something else, they might give them the wrong medicine. I can't do that without him… or his body. And if there is a chance he'll live, I'm not leaving him here to suffer."

'Leg-wound-guy' was still marinating the 'ebola' jinx word and, only understanding bits of Carter and Colleen's conversation, took out his pistol and aimed it at the half-lucid man's head.

"**NO.**" Carter pushed the gun away as it discharged into the woods. "_Jesus_!" Carter jumped and angrily grabbed the gun from the man's hand ignoring the fact that he was still armed enough to take out a small town. The rebel leader was just as surprised as the doctor was and stepped back, giving him some room before raising his voice again and pulling his AK-47 around to his front.

"Tell him," he ordered Colleen over the top of the leader's thunderous voice, "tell him that if he wants to live, and if he wants these other people to live, we have to get them to a hospital… with this man. **_Tell him_**."

"Calm down," she briskly told Carter under her breath as she put herself between the two angry men and gently relieved Carter of the gun.

Carter shot Colleen a snotty look.

"I'll tell him, I'll try to convince him. But you have to let me do it _my _way. Understand?"

Colleen gently put her hand on the rebel leader's arm and began talking to him, mostly in French but with the occasional Lingala word thrown in.

"Ask him who had contact with this man. Who may have been in contact with his bodily fluids - his saliva, blood, urine, feces, vomit," Carter threw out.

"He says just his wife and his oldest son here. There were others who guarded him, but they're not here."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about the others, but he and his family will have to come with us. How many kids?"

"Seven."

Carter looked up and did a quick count. One woman, two teenage boys and five younger children, all looking towards their father for direction. Finally the man talked to his people. Two men stayed on and drove the two pick-up trucks down the road. One with the family, the other with the rebel leader, Carter, Colleen and the patient.

It was a sparsely moonlit night as the small caravan made it's way out of the jungle haven, sometimes driving at an excruciatingly slow speed to get around the roots and huge holes in the dirt roads. Carter was alone in the truck bed wondering what the hell he had just gotten into. He could have kept his mouth shut altogether and have been back at camp by now. But that ignorance could have just as easily caused them to take back whatever disease this is to the PCRC. They were just as exposed as the rebel family was. He was hungry and thirsty and exhausted. As he dropped his head in sleep the trucks stopped.

"Carter, we have to get out."

He looked around but saw no hospital. Only the road in front of him and the same jungle around. "Where are we?"

"I don't know, but from what I can gather," she swiveled her head from side to side quickly taking in her surroundings, "this is as far as the trucks can go. I think we're encroaching on unsafe territory."

"Unsafe for who?"

"Considering our company and what we're doing, I'd say we're as good as them right now."

After the trucks emptied out and drove away, the large family and two Americans took off on foot down the road to complete their journey with the sons and leg-wound-guy taking turns carrying the litter. Suddenly from around the bend, a caravan of government soldiers appeared, making the rebel leader particularly anxious. He stopped dead in his tracks and backed into the foliage at the side of the road where his family quickly joined him, the sick soldier in tow.

"What?" Carter asked Colleen, "What's wrong?"

Colleen had a quick conversation with them, then turned back to Carter. "In case you haven't noticed, those troops headed our way are the enemy - at least theirs," she said nodding her head towards the family. "And we're hauling one of their own, sick and dying, with a heavily armed rebel gorilla bringing up the rear. Your ID only gives you clearance for Uganda and when they get to us they may decide to shoot on the offensive. It's not pretty."

Carter exhaled nervously as he searched his head for ideas, none of which there was any time to implement. "Oh shit, we're toast."

* * *

Luka didn't know who to be more angry with: Carter for going back into the Congo, Colleen for misleading him, or both for keeping it all a secret. With almost twelve in-patients at the clinic, two in labor, he and Maggie alternated caring for them and staring at the gate from the Midway porch as if the white Land Rover would suddenly appear in the gray haze of pre-dawn, but they hadn't seen any activity there since Bob's tail lights faded around the corner.

"What are we going to do about Norman?" Maggie asked. The muted haze of dawn was just casting its glow on the camp. It was a nice time to be awake as the insects and creatures of the night tucked themselves in and the daytime shift had not yet crawled out of their nests. It was quiet. Too quiet.

"Keep him in the dark, for now." Luka rubbed his eyes trying to take the sting of sleep depravation away. "If he asks, tell him Carter is away for a couple days setting up the satellite clinic for the Alliance."

"Dr. Maggie," a nurse called from around the corner, "she's crowning. It's time."

Maggie drew in a deep breath before getting to her feet hoping to gain some temporary strength. Before she went in she gently laid her hand on Luka's shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze and was somewhat surprised when he reached up and patted her hand in return. "Get some sleep, Luka. I've got this."

Luka got to his feet and nearly tripped on the stairs as his worn-out body lagged behind his brain. Hoping to avoid going through the busy clinic area of the hanger, he hung a right and aimed himself towards the back door near the doctors' bedrooms. But before he got away from the Midway, he caught sight of Toomay through the screened in kitchen door. Maybe she had a bit a food.

"Toomay?" he called as he opened the squeaky wood framed door. "Mrs. Bisango, I'm looking for a morsel of food. What do you have for a poor hungry soul like me?"

The woman sat motionless on a bar stool in front of her work table. Instead of starting the morning coffee or scraping and cleaning the cassava sitting in front of her, she stared blankly at a section of newspaper, her head tilted to the side.

"Toomay," Luka gently called again, sensing that something was bother her, "what's wrong?"

Finally realizing that she was no longer alone, Toomay took in a slow deep breath and let it out as she raised her head, smoothing the newspaper out in front of her. "The children wore hats for the party the other night, made from newspaper." She nervously laughed as she played with the corners of the paper. "They are always leaving a mess. I tell them to pick up their things, but they don't listen."

Luka remained silent, letting her have as much time as she needed to talk.

"I cleaned up the dining hall this morning and found their hats. They worked so hard on them." Her voice cracked as tears she had fought back finally rolled down her cheek. "I opened them up - thought maybe the workers would like to read the news." Turning the newspaper over, Luka finally saw what had affected Toomay so much: the headline and large picture of Jules. "My children don't know him, yet he haunts them still."

"I'm sorry, Toomay." Luka reached across the table and picked up her hand. "I saw this last week and threw it away. I didn't know someone took it out of the garbage."

She smiled, hoping to comfort his guilt. "That man had my husband murdered. He tortured you and John. And **my **people are hailing him as their next exalted leader? _My people?" _Her anger brought her hands to her face where she hurriedly wiped her tears away. "That man is evil."

"Yes, he is," Luka agreed, not quite sure how to console her other than to just listen.

Toomay got to her feet and threw the paper into the wood stove. "I will put that animal where he belongs, but burning in hell is too good for him." She resumed her morning duties trying hard to put on a valiant face, but when Luka stood and wrapped his arms around her, she broke down and wept. It melted his heart to be the one to comfort her, instead of Joseph, but he knew what it was like to have a spouse taken so violently. And he knew the man who did it. He knew him all too well.

"I will see you all at breakfast," she mustered as she gathered herself together, "even your pretty red-head."

"Colleen is on assignment and John is working at the satellite clinic." He didn't have the heart to tell her where they actually were. "Maggie's delivering babies and I'm going to get some sleep." Luka's appetite was suddenly gone. "So there's more food to go around." Toomay turned around and started in on the coffee. "You going to be…?" He caught himself. She'd never be okay. But she'd manage. "Promise me you'll come get me if you need someone," he whispered in her ear as the kids bounded into the kitchen.

Although he could fall asleep within seconds, peaceful sleep had been eluding Luka for a few weeks now and his mood was indicative of it. On the other had, as he became grumpier and Carter more distant, Luka was actually coming to appreciate Maggie. It boggled his mind.

Turning over on his stomach, he could smell Colleen. She lingered in his bed, even when she was away. As small as it was, Luka's bed easily accommodated the two as they snuggled together. He missed it - even that morning. It was so comforting… just so comforting…

Soon he was walking down the cobblestone streets of Rovinj overlooking the Adriatic Sea. He twirled around and took in the beauty, stopping to gaze all the way to the top of the cathedral of St. Euphemia's church. Luka stepped back as a large group of Italian tourists from Trieste came down the narrow curved street laughing and talking loudly as they made their way to the beaches. Under his feet, a trickle of used laundry water disposed from one of the cozy apartments at the top of the hill skirted around his shoes as it made its way over the bumpy cobblestones. No sooner than he had stepped out of the way of the tourists, he had to hop back up onto the curb as a little car racing down the hill tooted at him.

A wind blew in off the water pushing a salt water mist across his face - so refreshing. Even the occasional smell of the fish as they were brought in by the big fishing boats didn't bother him. The stickiness of the salt water, smell of the oleanders, cypresses and myrtles, sounds of tourists and local children, the feel of the sand dappled cobblestones under the soles of his sandals - all placing him where he was the happiest in his life.

As he passed the bakery and turned the corner, a voice called out to him from the alley. The skies grew dark as a storm approached from the sea, the wind whirling around the constricted streets. The voice called to him again. It was smooth and deep. It was smooth…

"Dr. Kovac."

He set his eyes on the wall that separated the road from the beach and tried to get to it, but his body carried him backwards to the alley.

"Dr. Kovac."

Looking down the alley he saw a dark figure lurking in the shadows walking towards him.

"Dr. Kovac, we had an understanding."

The crackle of gunfire jolted him awake as he found himself wrapped in sweat soaked sheets, his heart rate bordering on tachycardic. His stomach was growling, he was in dire need of a shower, his face held a few days worth of stubble and when he raked his hand over it to wake himself up completely he experienced a déjà vu moment.

"_Dr. Luka_," Othiamba called out with urgency bounding into his room, "Dr. Luka, we need you in the perimeter. Someone's been shot."

Slipping into his untied sneakers, Luka ran from the hanger and towards the jungle stopping abruptly as he got to the edge of the foliage. He hadn't been in the jungle in a few months and, considering where his mind had just been, he wasn't keen on going in anytime soon.

Othiamba looked back at his missing doctor and waved him on. "Hurry, Dr. Luka. They need you."

Luka cleared his throat. "I can't." Luckily nobody heard him as he immediately felt self conscious and drove forward trusting Othiamba implicitly. Having spent the last couple months walking the grassy fields and hard tarmac of the abandoned airfield, the terrain under his feet took some getting used to. Further in, branches and huge frons slapped him in the arms and face as he tried to keep up with Othiamba.

Finally, they came upon three Ugandan soldiers who routinely guarded the camp. Pushing through them, Luka had to grab onto one of them to steady himself when he saw who lay bleeding on the ground in front of him.


	15. Chapter 15 Being Deceived Kills the Soul

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**_Chapter 15_**

Finally, they came upon three Ugandan soldiers who routinely guarded the camp. Pushing through them, Luka had to grab onto one of them to steady himself when he saw who lay bleeding on the ground in front of him.

"What happened?" he asked without looking up from the bloody mess in front of him.

"We had to shoot. No one is supposed to be here," one of the soldiers said. "This is a restricted area. Even people from the camp cannot be in here."

"This…" Luka stumbled as his fear and anger intertwined. He cocked his head, trying to avert his eyes, but it was almost like if he took his eyes off the man he would lose control of the situation and become…

"What, Dr. Luka?" Othiamba put his hand on the doctor's arm startling him from thought.

He continued his stare downward, but did nothing to help the man. "This is not someone from the camp," he said in a flat tone.

"We know. He's a rebel. Probably LRA. We shouted for him to stop, but he turned and put his hand in his pocket, so I shot at him." The soldier squatted down and checked on the man's condition. "He's still alive."

Luka's head remained down, his eyes unconsciously scoping things out left to right, right to left as a million thoughts raced through him. "No," he stated matter-of-factly without losing focus, "not LRA. Congolese."

"Doctor?" The soldier stood and tugged on Luka's shirt. "Doctor? _He's still alive_."

A sudden downpour, rain which was so needed, prompted the four Ugandan men to look up into the angry sky peeking through the large green leaves. Luka wasn't even phased, his breathing heavy and his face dripping with sweat. Nobody quite knew what to do next as they looked at Luka, the only sound being the giant raindrops flopping onto the large jungle leaves.

"Dr. Luka, _we need to do something_," Othiamba pleaded quietly.

"Jaysus. What the bloody hell is going on here?" Sean and Maggie made their way through the now drenched garland of jungle vines and shrubs. Pushing through all five men standing around, they knelt down on the ground to check out the patient.

"GSW, two that I can tell," Maggie announced. "What the fuck, Kovac? Get down here and help me pack off the bleeders."

Luka stood frozen as he contemplated what move to make next, only his thought process was a tad slow for the others at the moment. The early morning sky darkened as the brunt of the storm moved in, the thunder emitting a roaring continuous rumble before cracking wide open sending vibrations through the atmosphere.

Right behind Sean and Maggie were staffers with a litter to carry the wounded man back to the clinic. The soldiers helped Maggie load him up and even carried the patient back to the hanger. Luka followed as Maggie occasionally looked back at him, stumped as to his nearly withdrawn demeanor.

* * *

"Oh shit. We're toast." Carter winced as Colleen started to take the sling off of him. "Hey. _HEY_. What are you…"

"Shut up and just take off your t-shirt."

Carter had on an old worn button down Oxford loosely over his Alliance t-shirt which Colleen was trying to get to. Pretty soon she had him stripped down to his waist and was handing his t-shirt off to the rebel leader, 'leg-wound-guy', who got the hint and replaced his own black shirt for the white one with the Alliance logo.

"Great," Carter whined under his breath, "first we're aiding and abetting the enemy and now it's impersonating a doctor." Before putting his outer shirt back on, he quickly pulled out another surgical mask. Tying it around the man's neck and pulling it over his mouth and nose he added to the ruse by taking his own stethoscope and draping it around the rebel's neck. "If we're going to do this we might as well get it right," he snickered dryly.

They kept looking down the road as the line of soldiers got closer. The rebel leader was looking over Carter's scars as the doctor adjusted his mask. "You - soldier?" he asked as he reached out with his hand and barely touched Carter's midline incision scar.

"Me?" Carter flinched and looked down at his abdomen realizing what the rebel was thinking, then quickly put his Oxford back on. "Ah, not really…"

"Yes, a soldier. Doctor soldier," Colleen interjected hastily as she finished the costuming and set off back where they came from, alone.

"What are you going to do?" Carter asked.

"I'm not sure yet. But we'll get there. I'll try to distract them if they get nosey, but it'll look too posed if I'm with you." For the first time, Carter saw a nervous and not so confident Colleen as she rushed to get out of sight.

"Colleen," Carter called out as she disappeared back up the road a bit, "Colleen, you shouldn't be alone."

"I'm right behind you. Just go," she whispered loudly, then mouthed and waved her hand, "_GO_."

Carter pulled his own mask up over his nose and adjusted the stethoscope around the rebel's neck before giving the man's son on the other end of the litter a nod of approval, hoping the occasional tremble of his hands wasn't noticeable.

"Emile," the rebel told Carter looking him in the eyes apprehensively, "Emile dia Wamba."

"Emile?" Carter looked over the man's shoulders at his children who were obediently and expertly hiding the man's numerous weapons in the ground under a large log. "Nice to meet you… I guess."

"You, Carter?"

Carter nodded his head. "I _can't _believe I'm having this conversation," he said to himself as they started their trek back onto the road again.

Emile stopped abruptly and shouted to one of his daughters who went back into the jungle and came back with a tan vest, the same vest he had been wearing and was popular among rebels and Congolese soldiers alike. They reminded Carter of his grandfather's fishing vest.

Emile handed the vest to Carter and nodded, apparently insistent that he take it. They looked at each other quizzically at first before Carter decided to be a polite guest and accept it. Anything not to piss the guy off. He slipped the vest on and they continued on the road straight into the hands of the government soldiers.

* * *

Sera set up two peripheral IV lines and started cutting off the rebel's clothing. "What do you want to do with these?" she asked the soldiers standing by.

"If he lives we'll have to take him into custody. Just put his things in a box for now."

Sean picked up a large box of bandages and dumped them out on a nearby bed. As Sera cut away the clothing, Sean pulled off what he could and dumped it in the box, including a loaded pistol, a knife and a small backpack - all covered in blood.

Maggie rolled the man to his side and found one exit wound in the left middle of his back. "One's out and one's in, but at least he's still breathing," she said as she scrubbed her hands quickly before gloving up again. "that's about all that's going right for him now." As the man regained consciousness he moaned and reached out to Sera who dutifully patted his hand.

Luka was conspicuously uninvolved standing several feet away from the action, his arms crossed tightly in front of him, nervously biting at his lower lip.

"I could use some help here," Maggie shouted as she crossed in front of him on her way back to the patient, but he didn't budge. She backed up a few steps and tried again. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but I can't do this by myself."

As Maggie got back to work, Sean purposely put himself in front of Luka trying to separate him from the trauma. "Luka, what is it?" Sean wasn't tall enough to get right in his face and Luka kept on staring at the action. "**_Luka_**," Sean finally yelled bringing the doctor's eyes and attention back to the Irishman, "you can't just stand here."

"Diminished on the left," Maggie called out moving her stethoscope to the man's abdomen. "He needs a chest tube."

"I've got it." Luka grabbed a pair of gloves and stepped to the patient's left side where Sera had begun prepping the man for a chest tube.

"About time," Maggie let out. "He's got bowel sounds, maybe, but I'd put good money on him bleeding internally, at least from his spleen or liver."

The man let out a scream as Luka cut through his flesh between the ribs.

"Hey Luka, at least he doesn't have an arm on that side to get in the way." Maggie joked at the missing appendage as Luka continued almost hyper focused on the job. "Ooh," she checked his mouth out, "and a lean dental count to match."

It was not a pretty procedure in any situation, but Luka put a little more force than was necessary behind the forceps pushing their way in through the chest cavity. The patient turned and looked at Luka and, through a moment of recognition as he glanced from the doctor's ID hanging around his neck to the face it belonged to, forced himself to stifle the grunts and cries of pain.

With the excess blood now flowing through the tube, the man's lung capacity had improved, but his face still was beat red as he fought back the urge to scream out. Luka had never been this close to him, or at least his face. Not that he knew of. He was there the day he and Carter were taken on the death march. For all he knew he was the one that put the bullet in Joseph's head. Either he or Mbuto's father. Another suture, nice… and… _tight_.

"Geez, Luka, not so rough." Maggie was making preparations for a peritoneal lavage.

"Luka," Sean asked from across the table seeing something in his friend that Maggie hadn't, "you know this man?"

Luka didn't answer, and instead finished suturing the chest tube in place as he and the man stole looks at each other. Not telepathy, certainly not mutual admiration. Perhaps mind games.

"Luka?" Maggie nudged him for an answer. "Do you know him?"

"I guess you could say we have a history." He didn't know if the man understood him or not. He didn't care either. "Carter has a permanent record of this man's work on his back. All over it." Luka threw the scissors and needle driver into the porcelain pan as he walked away from the table. "Sean, you need to make arrangements for him to get to the hospital in Gulu or Kampala. I'm done with him." He snapped his gloves off into a basin and drove through the swinging doors where he found himself standing in the rain.

* * *

Carter pulled his ID out from his shirt hanging around his neck and took notice of where on the card '_Uganda' _was prominently featured. As they met up with the first group of government soldiers he quickly held it out to them, his finger neatly over his country of temporary residence, then shoved it back inside his shirt. The two soldiers spoke with each other and Carter in what sounded like French on acid. Carter could barely make out assorted nouns and verbs, much less complete sentences.

"Je ne comprends pas," he repeated two or three times. Then, "Je suis d'un médecin avec Alliance de Medecines Internationale. Um.. Ah…," Carter closed his eyes and pulled every bit of French from his exhausted brain as he could find. "S'il vous plaît, Je parle très peu le français. Nous allons en à l'hôpital." Correct or not, it's all he had.

The soldiers looked at each other, then Carter, then shifted to Emile looking him up and down, certainly suspicious. When they moved over to him, Carter used the last phrase he knew of hoping to find someone who spoke his language. "Est-ce qu'il y a quelqu'un qui parle anglais ici?" If he couldn't con someone in French, then he'd try it on someone in his own language. His pronunciation was putrid, but it was doable. The soldiers talked among themselves, finally waving forward another younger man of much lower rank.

"Who are you and where do you go?" he asked Carter.

"We are doctors," he barely got that lie out as he tried to maintain eye contact. Carter was glad the surgical mask hid his grimacing mouth. "This man is sick and we have to get to the hospital."

The young man translated and the two older soldiers quickly pulled the tarp away from the patient as Carter yelled for them to stop and get away. A flurry of French was thrown around again as the sick man's identity was discovered.

"He is one of our missing soldiers. Where did you find him?"

"On the side of the road this morning when we were treating this family." So far they were buying it. "But now we've all been exposed and we have to get to the hospital."

Suddenly, the soldiers stepped back and talked in private, stealing occasional suspicious looks at the group. Without warning, guns were readied and pointed at them and more soldiers came forward to relieve Emile and his son of the litter. Another soldier started frisking the men of the group. One even stripped off Carter's sling. It was not good.

Just as Carter spewed out, "Ebola… I think he has Ebola," Colleen came marching around the bend, camera in hand snapping pictures and taking notes.

"Hi guys, I'm from Reuters. Whatcha got?" Snap, snap, snap. "Oooh, this is good stuff." Snap, snap, snap. "Government soldiers working with volunteer docs to save one of their own." The young soldier translated as she continued. "This will make good front page stuff. Maybe even CNN."

"CNN," they chattered in French, all recognizing the TV news network that was so popular in Africa. "CNN… _CNN_."

Colleen walked in and around the group as though nothing bothered her. "Hi there, how ya doing," she occasionally tossed out as she gave a friendly pat here, a business-like handshake there. "Whew, he smells, eh?" she blurted as she walked near the litter, matter-of-factly pushing down the muzzle of an AK-47 that got in her way. "Man, he's bleeding from everywhere. Got yourself an Ebola case here doc? You didn't touch him, did ya?" she asked the soldiers, "I've read about this shit and it's nothing to fool with." She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered them around to the soldiers before lighting one up for herself and taking a long drag. "Great story though. Can I hitch a ride with you guys? You're taking them into town aren't you? No? Eh - that's okay, I can hoof it."

Looking directly at Emile and Carter while raising her eyebrows, shutter-bug Colleen followed the 'medical' team as they continued on their way all hoping the soldiers maintained their befuddled and stupefied manner.

"What are we doing?" Carter whispered to her as she brushed by him.

"Just walk. Don't talk."

But as fate would have it, they got no more than ten yards when the soldiers ran to them once again and ordered them to stop. Now they were in trouble.

* * *

Luka stood in the downpour, hands on his hips looking down at his feet. Life was moving by in slow motion again as he stared at the drops of water that slipped down his nose and hung there before finally falling onto his shoes. He counted them… twenty-three now. Every so often a drop would land like a bull's eye in the dead center of a dried blood droplet distorting the round edges from the inside out. _His _blood. 'Romano's'… Carter's Romano. Well if there was anything good about Carter and Colleen missing, it was that they chose that day to do it.

"Did a DPL and got a diffuse sample. If he has a bleed it could be resolving on it's own." Maggie put her fingers through her hair and let the water pour over her sweaty face. She didn't know if Luka heard her or was ignoring her. "His crit is on the low side but steady with fluids. Vitals good."

Luka slowly nodded his head acknowledging her.

"Paulette is scrounging around for some fresh scrubs."

Still no reaction.

"I think he'll be stable for transport and may even make it."

"Glad I could help," Luka dryly spoke to the ground before turning and taking the long way around the hanger to get to his room in the back. Before he could get far he was intercepted by Sean bounding down the steps of the Midway with his satellite phone.

"I keep getting cut off with the weather and all, but it doesn't look like we can transport our patient to a hospital outside of the camp."

"Roads out?" Maggie asked.

"No. No. Actually the hospitals won't take him. They are already admitting our serious refugee cases at their expense. They won't take a risk like that guy."

"We have to get him out of here," Luka finally spoke.

"We can't force the issue without jeopardizing the good will we've established with the hospitals," Sean explained. "Not for this bad egg."

"Get Bob. Tell him to pull his string." Luka's eyes pleaded with Sean, though his voice was tired and beginning to get horse. "This guy can't be here."

"He's out looking for Colleen and Carter. I'm sorry Luka, you'll just have to do whatever you can for him here."

"_He's crashing_."

Before they could see which nurse had called to them from the clinic, the hanger doors were flapping back and forth. All three ran back in to find the nurses squeezing the bags of IV fluids as hard as they could to keep his pressure up. He was conscious, barely.

"Okay folks, give me twenty of etomidate and a hundred of Sux. Draw for another Chem-7 and crit. I want a BP every five minutes until we've got the bleeding under control." Maggie spun the room like an expert trauma physician. "Come on people, let's get him prepped for an ex-lap." She knew that Luka was beyond discussion, and held little hope for his help. But before she could ask for any available nurse to step in, Luka was standing across the table from her, freshly scrubbed and gloved. Sera quickly held a gown open for him and tied a mask around his face before moving over to help Maggie who had finally intubated the patient.

Once they were convinced that the man was properly under anesthesia, Luka began his cut. Exploratory laparatomies weren't something they did although in a pinch with a text book standing by, they dredged up what they had stored in their memories from their surgical rotations and dug in. Like they had any other choice.

"Sera, drop an NG tube. What's his output from the foley?" Luka asked as he clamped off the bleeders.

"Not a lot, but it's clear."

By the time Luka had cut through the abdominal wall and put the retractors in place -one held by Paulette - the free blood oozed from around the organs. Putting his hand in and gently pushing the intestines aside, he was greeted by a standing pool of blood rising to flood stage and a putrid smell of bowel contents.

"Come on, come on, let's get this out of here," Luka ordered as one rag after another was put in and taken out. "Where's the bleeder?"

"Spleen's nicked but barely oozing." Maggie reported. "I'm not even going to touch it. Run the bowel?"

"No, that's the last thing we do. First, find the bleeders, then we worry about the bowel."

They stood on their feet for a couple hours before finally closing up. They'd found a blood clot and laceration in the liver which was sewn up but put optimism aside when they discovered that part of the large intestine had not only been nearly ripped apart, but necrosis had already begun to set in.

"Ever done an end to end anastomosis?" Maggie asked.

"No. Not on my own. I believe that was my first."

"I knew a vet once who would yell upstairs to his wife to bring down a ziti from their kitchen," Maggie regaled the staff as they sutured the incision and placed a couple of drains. "He'd slide each section of intestine over either end of the uncooked pasta tube and use the grooves to guide his needle. Some warm saline through the gut and - presto - ziti digests leaving one nice, neat section of intestine."

"Sounds like something you'd try," Luka teased.

"Yeah? I haven't seen any pasta here yet." She winked at him over her mask before pulling it, the gown and gloves away and tossing them in a bin.

"Is he going to live?" Sean asked as they stepped outside into the humid air. The rains had taken a break, but thunder and lightening was again creeping towards them. "What did you find?"

"Let's start with blood loss and go from there." Luka told him. "The bastard is going to use all of what we have left of antibiotics. Not sure if I can spare a lot of morphine."

"That's gone too? Didn't you just get some?"

"Yeah."

"We still have that shit going on?" Sean's furious Irish ire was now in full force. "Brilliant. Just brilliant." He paced around Luka before asking _the _question. "Are you all incredibly daft and unable to keep count, or are the supplies being lifted by someone straight under your noses?"

Luka rubbed the back of his neck and tried to get a word in edgewise. "Sean, I…"

"You do realize the consequences should we find that someone from this camp - one of our own - is stealing supplies?"

"Sean…"

"_Even narcotics, no less?_"

"Yes, I…"

"We **_WILL _**lose this camp."

* * *

Once again, Carter and the totally hapless 'medical corps' was held at gun point by the Congolese government soldiers. There seemed to be a fair amount of discussion going on as fingers pointed at Carter, Colleen, the patient and at the road in both directions. French, Lingala as well as at least two other languages were being thrown around.

"Bunia?" Carter asked Colleen. "Are they saying Bunia?"

"Yeah, at least ten times. We're not that far away."

Emile confirmed Colleen's translation by nodding in the direction of the road as it took them down hill.

"I've been here before," Carter let out quietly, almost to himself as he looked around and confirmed his feelings.

"What?" Colleen asked not sure if she heard right.

"I know the way, unfortunately." Carter thought the hair-raising and uncanny feelings he had been getting since they got off the trucks were coincidence. Now he knew they weren't. Standing next to Emile, but away from Colleen, he tapped him on the shoulder as the soldiers carried on with their argument. "Let me ask you something," he said almost in a whisper knowing that it was unlikely that Emile would understand. "Do you know Jules Akonda-Bouche?"

"Jules. Oui!" he said enthusiastically.

Well, that was a moment deserving of a large gulp of air.

"Good man or bad? Bon ou mauvais?" Why not find out where he stood, Carter thought.

"Oh, oui. Il est très bon," he told Carter excitedly, "et très, très mauvais."

"Well, glad we nailed that one down."

The young soldier walked up to the group as the guns were lowered to the ground. "My commander has liberated two of our trucks to take you to the hospital in Bunia. Of course once there your responsibilities with this soldier will be done."

Once again they piled into trucks and bumped over the pot holed roads until they made it to the Bunia hospital. It seemed to Carter that the same long lines of displaced people walked in and out of the town, and they all still wore the same worn out, defeated looks on their faces. Death still lined the sides of the road where the bodies were buried, and the littlest of soldiers - the children - were still armed and fighting for their lives, day to day.

At the hospital they were met by a large group of workers dressed in the standard issue protective gear distributed by the World Health Organization for suspected cases of Ebola. The appearance of the doctors and nurses in space suits scared the little ones who clung to their mother and older siblings.

Carter and Colleen were kept under guard in a room with two beds for the rest of the night. They were treated quite nicely, given protective medication and while they were sleeping, someone left them trays of food.

They'd only been asleep for about an hour when Carter's agitated tossing and turning woke Colleen up. She sat on her bed watching him as he obviously wrestled himself within a dream. Finally his eyes flew open and he sat up in a panic, sweating profusely, his arm trembling as it bore the weight of his upper body as he relaxed and leaned back.

"You do this every night?" she asked him.

"Only when I'm sneaking around blood hungry rebels in the middle of a civil war."

"You're shaking," she said, stating the obvious. "You okay?"

"Haven't eaten in a while." They opened the trays and ate what looked appetizing. As much as they were hungry, the food just didn't do it for them.

"Why do you do this?" he asked her.

"What?"

"Constantly push to get the story. Who are you trying to please?"

Colleen shook her head as she sat cross legged on her bed. "And you? Who are you trying to please?"

Carter chuckled a little as he laid down and rubbed his eyes. "I stopped trying to please my folks a long time ago."

"Yeah? What'd it take?"

Carter put the tray back on the table across from him before getting back into bed. "A quaint little out of the way place called Rock Bottom. Ever been there?"

"No." She turned on her side ready to get a couple hours in. "I saw it on the map, thought I may have passed through there, but I'm too controlling to let that happen."

"Believe me. You'll know the place when you get there. Nothing fuzzy about it." He closed his heavy eyes. "Doing my best to stay away."

A knock on the door preceded the several men who opened it only by seconds as Colleen and Carter awoke to a misty sunrise outside their window. Between two UN soldiers in the front a familiar face broke through, his hand outstretched to Carter.

"Fancy meeting you again, Dr. Carter."

"I remember you, but…" Carter grasped at his memories and found Thomas Bongala sitting somewhere between Ikela and Bunia.

"Yes, I am a UN peacekeeper. Last time I met you was in the summer after your month of…"

"Oh yes," Carter finally returned the handshake. "Here on business?"

Bongala and the men laughed as it became obvious to Carter that they were here for him, and Colleen.

"A mutual friend has dispatched me to find you two and get you back safely to the border." They ushered the two out of the hospital to an awaiting truck taking them on yet another journey, this time in comfort up front. They weren't taken to the same bridge they crossed the day before, but instead to a more official looking crossing manned by UN peacekeepers on both sides. No IDs were checked, just a lot of talking and pointing as Carter and Colleen crossed the long cement bridge alongside cargo trucks and the occasional car or pick-up truck. A bright flash of lightening welcomed them as they entered back into Uganda and were met by yet another familiar face.

"Hello children," Bob smirked leaning against his SUV. Lightening's friend, Mr. Thunder rumbled then cracked, sending a vibration straight through Carter. Soon enough the rain came down in sheets soaking the three of them. "Car keys please."

Carter dug around in his pack before handing Bob the keys to the Rover which he then tossed to a couple of men to the side in another vehicle. "Get in."

They were too tired to argue as Colleen sat shot gun and Carter took the back seat.

"You've got a whole lot of people worried about you."

Yep. No argument there. Carter was sure that there would be hell to pay - both Irish and Croatian, as well as whatever variety Maggie was going to deal them. That was all Bob had to say on their more than three hour drive to Pakwach. Within a mile of the camp, he stopped.

"Get out," he ordered. Pulling up behind them was the Rover, driven by Bob's friends. "You left the camp alone, and that's the way you're going to return. No need to stir anything else up."

"Thank you… ," Carter barely got out before Bob pulled away with the other two men leaving him and Colleen on their own. They drove into camp and parked behind the hanger sitting a moment by themselves in their own thoughts before getting out and heading to the Midway. There inside, Sean, Maggie and Luka sat drinking coffee, and it looked like they had been drinking a lot of it.

The screen door slammed shut behind them as Sean got to his feet. "You two okay?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Good, because I may just have to make applesauce out of ye."

Luka's stares were like acid. He and Maggie were covered in blood. Just covered. And they looked like hell.

"Luka… ," Carter started.

"Being deceived," Luka spoke looking between the two, "kills the soul."

The silence certainly imitated death, and Carter felt like his friendship with Luka was about to mimic agonol breathing: one gasp, then another before no more life.

"Doctors," Sera yelled through the door, "we're losing him."

Maggie and Luka bounded from their seats and brushed by the arrivals, Maggie almost pushing Carter down. When they got to the door of the hanger, Luka stopped and turned around, putting his arms out to each side blocking Carter and Colleen.

"No. You stay out here. Both of you."

"I can help," Carter offered, but he was met only with Luka's stern face and strong arm at the door.

"Go away, don't come in. Do you understand?"

Carter looked stupefied at Luka. "What the hell…"

"**_Do - you - understand?_**"

Luka finally went back to his coding patient leaving Colleen and Carter outside.

"He'll be okay." Colleen leaned her head up against the doorframe.

"I don't know. He can hold a grudge."

With another simultaneous flash of lightening and crash of thunder, the skies opened up again, and without thinking Carter and Colleen pushed the doors open and walked right into the clinic - right into Luka and Maggie putting all of their effort and energy into resuscitating a patient. Luka's back was to them performing CPR, pumping away. As Carter got closer he noticed the patient's left arm was amputated - certainly not a recent procedure.

"Just call it, Luka," Maggie breathlessly let out, "his pupils are blown."

Stepping down from the stool he'd been on to get a better position, Luka wiped his sweat covered brow with his upper arm before turning around and coming face to face with Carter who had just recognized the exposed patient.


	16. Chapter 16 Shining Your Own Star

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter 16**

"Just call it, Luka," Maggie breathlessly let out, "his pupils are blown."

Stepping down from the stool he'd been on to get a better position, Luka wiped his sweat covered brow with his upper arm before turning around and coming face to face with Carter who had just recognized the exposed patient. Luka was out of breath and took a moment to compose himself before trying to explain things to Carter who pushed him out of the way to get closer to 'Romano'.

"Probably had a PE." Maggie exhaled and let go of the ambu bag.

It wasn't even a matter of dredging his memory and seeing if the dead man remotely resembled his torturer. He knew it the minute he saw the disfigured stump of what remained of his arm, then the unmistakable scarred face - the eyes open in the death mask of half mast. Laid out naked on the table, the sutured remains of a fresh ex-lap and two drains eerily resembled his own scars. Carter moved to his head and took the tape from around the endotracheal tube to get a better look at the man's mouth. Unlike Luka who couldn't bring himself at first to get near the man much less acknowledge him, Carter had an insatiable need to approach him, touch him, and verify his very physical existence outside of his tortured memory. Pulling out the tube he saw the huge gap where the teeth had long ago been knocked out and, as he closed his eyes, he saw the guy, cigarette held in that dental gap, whip in the hand of his lowly trainee, laughing at his victim as the leather strap sliced open the raw, infected flesh of his back over and over and…

"Carter," Luka spoke behind him, startling his eyes open.

"What…?" He cleared his throat. "How did he…?" Carter's voice quivered, his heavy breathing shook and, as the color drained from his face and he became light headed, his chin dropped leaving a string of saliva dangling from his mouth.

Sean walked towards him and put an arm around his shoulders, fearful that he'd fall to the hard cement floor. Instead, Carter tersely pulled his arm away and took off through the doors, not quite steady on his feet. Alarmed that nobody moved to go after him, Maggie took it upon herself, giving Luka and Sean a puzzled look over her shoulder before she hit the doors.

"Carter… _John_…,"

Maggie found Carter leaning against the trunk of a tree at the edge of camp hurling what little was in his stomach. "Doesn't look like he was the nicest of fellas." She leaned against the neighboring tree holding a tissue out to him.

"My puke doesn't bother you?" he asked gathering a nice big hock from his throat.

"I've seen and smelled worse."

His stomach finally finished lurching and he spit the remains of the bile onto the ground before staggering to the other side of Maggie and attempting to gracefully squat down. "God, I hate that," he moaned as he awkwardly landed on his butt. "Where did he come from?"

"Not quite clear on that. He was shot by the guards way out in the protected perimeter."

"Is he okay?" Luka had finally wandered out with Colleen and Sean close behind.

"I don't know," Carter sarcastically answered in place of Maggie, "why don't you ask _him_."

Out of habit - and caring - Maggie gave Luka the bullet. "Nauseas, clammy, weak, excessive watery discharge from the mouth, rapid respiration and pulse…"

"_Stop_." Carter yanked his wrist away from Maggie. "_What the fuck do you expect?" _Carter sat with his knees drawn up, his head buried between them. The silence was deafening. "What?" Looking up at the spectators, he became even more defensive. "Oh for crying out… Look, I haven't had much to eat or drink and I've been on an elaborate hike through the African jungle."

"Yeah? Whose fault is that?" Luka threw at him.

"How about bed rest until tomorrow?" Maggie intervened. "Get a nice booster of IV fluids."

"Whose fault is that?" Carter stood face to face with Luka, ignoring Maggie's suggestion. "_Whose fault_? You know, you don't know one thing about what we've been through since yesterday morning."

"That's right. I **don't**." Luka spit back. "Let me tell you what I _do _know. You two leave here conveniently forgetting to tell any of us the **truth **about where you're off too. You leave us on our own here at the clinic - just two doctors. We were up all night taking care of patients and worrying about you. And after we found out you were actually in the Congo - illegally, we wondered if you were even going to come back alive."

"You obviously had enough to keep you busy." Carter's puke laced breath was inches from Luka's face as he so masterfully stabbed him with his sharp words. "Work hard? Waste a lot of supplies trying to save that bottom feeding piece of **_shit_**?"

"Do you even care about what happened around here while you were off playing hero doctor? Huh? Do you care that Toomay saw that newspaper headline with Jules' picture?" Luka put his hand on Carter's chest pushing him back from his face, his eyes drawn down to the odd looking vest he was sporting. "You not only sound like one of them, now you're dressing like one too."

Carter looked down at the multi pocketed fishing vest he had all but forgotten. "What is this? Insult first, ask questions later?"

"Look, you two… "

"**You**," Luka turned his head slightly directing his hard voice to Colleen, "just keep out of this."

"Luka, it was just a short trip. Don't get all…"

"Just a short trip?" Luka turned and gave his full attention to Colleen. "Carter takes you back to where we were almost killed and it was _just a trip_? You told me you had things to do in town."

"Come on, you really are making more of this than…"

"…and I certainly deserve more from you than deception and being talked down to."

"Luka I…"

"If you can't be bothered to parent your own child, _don't treat me like one_."

Colleen stopped trying to interject and instead closed her mouth in defeat. She _had _deceived Luka and now he returned the favor by letting out her secret. She matched the severity of his stare, her face while resolute and fixed, no less unable to hide the wounds of his words.

"If you're trying to assign blame here," Carter shoved Luka in the shoulder trying to draw back his attention, "you need to put it on me. There were families that needed medical attention and we had no other way of getting it to them."

Colleen turned on her heels and walked back to the hanger, leaving the three doctors and Sean in the fresh downpour of rain.

"You _asshole_," Carter gave him with a verbal lash, "she put her job and maybe her life on the line to get us out of a potentially deadly situation. She could have walked away. But she didn't. She's got balls, Luka, and you need to stop looking at the surface."

Carter caught up to Colleen just in time to see Bob pull into camp as though nothing had happened.

"Hey kids," he spewed, "good to see you came directly home, didn't pass _GO, _didn't collect two hundred dollars."

"Fuck off, Bob," Colleen smirked.

"By the way," Bob didn't miss a beat, "I'll need to speak to both of you adventurers alone at some time tomorrow."

Colleen shoved him aside before storming into the back door of the hanger, one prominent middle finger displayed in the air.

"Always good to see you too, Reilly."

With Colleen in the back door, Luka stormed in through the main front doors, leaving Maggie and Sean to deal with Carter still outside.

"Tomorrow, when you all have gotten some sleep, we're going to sit down as one cohesive unit and talk. Okay?" Sean waited for Carter to nod before patting him on the back. "Any questions?" Carter shook his head this time. "Good. Okay." Sean left the group but stopped long enough to share a few words in private with Bob.

"I'll, ah, get a few hours sleep and take call tonight," Carter told Maggie. "Looks like you and Luka need a night off."

"You sure?" Maggie put her arm through Carter's resting on his hip. "I wouldn't mind keeping you company."

"Thanks, but I'll be okay." Carter gave her an affectionate squeeze before heading off to his room.

She had most of her scant few bags packed by the time Luka got to the doorway of his room.

"You're all wet." He leaned against the doorframe watching her at work. "You should change into some dry clothes."

"I will. Later."

"You leaving?'

"I'll bunk with the kids tonight over in the dorms." She looked around to make sure she got everything before closing all of the zippers. The largest backpack was strapped to her back and she carried the other two bags by hand, her two cameras hanging around her neck. It was obvious that Colleen could pick up and clear out quicker than a deadbeat on rent day. She managed everything except the obstacle in the doorway. "You need to move."

The top of her head came just to his chin. "You're shivering." Her red curls trembled across his lips, tickling his unshaven face. "I'm sorry…," Luka pushed a lock of hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear, "…I was worried, and scared."

"Sounded angry to me."

"Yeah. I didn't mean for it to come out that way." He chuckled as he leaned his head against the door.

"What's so funny?"

"Carter. He told me once that my anger comes out sideways." Luka took her two bags out of her hands and set them down on the floor. "Please don't go."

Colleen let him take her bags back to the corner they had been stashed in. She was so tired that she didn't even argue when he slipped the backpack off of her, then the two cameras. Without saying anything he put his fingers under her rain soaked t-shirt and pulled it up over her head exposing her erect nipples peeking through the wet sheer fabric of her bra. She shivered again raising the goose bumps on her arms as Luka unhooked the bra and tossed it to the side. Reaching into a paper bag of laundered clothes, Luka pulled out an oversized Chicago Bulls shirt and slipped it over Colleen's head and then shoulders. After taking her pants and underwear off he wrapped his warm arms around her and nestled his face into her soft hair.

The sun was making it's slow descent behind the horizon as Carter snuck in the kitchen door of the Midway hoping to get some leftovers.

"Welcome home, John." Toomay was drying her hands after having just finished cleaning up from the last of the diners. "I hope you didn't have to deal with a lot of locals while you were there."

"Hmm?"

"They can be very difficult sometimes with foreigners, especially Americans. They like to run the show, if you know what I mean."

Carter was not prepared to rehash his Congo visit with Toomay and was frankly perplexed that she even knew about it.

"Were there problems?" She waited for an answer as she hung the clean saucepans back up on the hooks that fell from the ceiling. "Are you hungry?"

"Um, no… I mean yes, I'm hungry. And no, I didn't have too many problems, I guess." He stuttered slightly, still waking up from his nap and unprepared for the line of questioning. "Colleen translated."

"Here you go, sweetie." Toomay put a plate of food in front of him with silverware. "Luka said you would miss dinner - _again_." She scolded him with her eyes as she raised her right eyebrow and squinted at him. "No English?"

"What?"

"You _are _tired. I said, I'm surprised you had to work with the French locals."

Boy, she's cool about this, he thought.

"You're tired too," he mentioned noticing her drawn face with what looked like recently added lines.

"There's good tired, and bad tired." She showed him her famous smile. "I'm busy doing good things for good people. This is a good tired. Now you go eat."

Before he got to the door, he stopped and finally told her what he had really gone to the kitchen to do. "Toomay, I'm sorry about the newspaper - about Jules and all. Luka told me. We tried to keep it from you, but…" His voice faded as he could find no appropriate excuses other than the truth.

Folding the towel and putting it neatly next to the stove, she walked over to Carter and put her hand, still warm from the dishwater, on his arm. "I'm sorry you saw it too, but we cannot dwell on these things for which we cannot control. All those bad dreams, all those memories - they stay where they are. They may not get better, but they cannot get worse. We move on, John. That we _can _control, and we have to live in the present, not the past."

Like her late husband, she was always thinking of others before herself - a characteristic that deeply touched Carter considering what she and her family had been through. He paused holding his dinner plate tented with a small towel, his silverware in his fist. "Good night, Toomay." He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek before heading out to eat in quiet on the porch before the night time bugs came looking for their own meal of flesh.

Carter snuck up on the Midway porch and sat at the very end sure that Todd and the children crowded around hadn't seen him. He'd obviously come in the middle of something as Todd continued.

"No, it was a story my father made up and told me when I was a kid just like you. Now do you want to hear the rest of it?" Some of the children giggled, some cheered him on and two of the smaller ones raced to get a spot on his lap, both winning. Carter quietly sat in the shadows eating his dinner while listening to the children be… children.

"Now, Rigel was very sad that he couldn't shine as bright as the other stars. He couldn't wait to be a dignified, important star. He didn't want to be part of a boring constellation. Every day he asked Betelguese, a brilliantly proud star - the brightest one in his constellation - when it would be his turn to shine. _You are much too young and not yet wise enough to be a star. You are too fast on your points_, he told him. _Much more fitted to become a shooting star. _The young star knew that his points flickered out quickly, and it frustrated him. _Constellations are important, noble and stay put. When your time comes, Rigel, you will make an adequate, if not brief, shooting star._

One night as Rigel watched the stars play in the sky, he was drawn to a cluster of bigger ones. There was a problem at Orion and Betelguese had sent for a replacement star for one that was flickering out."

Carter couldn't help smiling as Todd drew the children into the story, their eyes widening with anticipation. He took his time and lingered over the words taking his cues from the children.

"None of the bigger stars were fast enough to get to the constellation. They huddled together, their twinkles joining to glow beautiful gold, yellow and orange. One at a time they would shoot off to Orion but ultimately came back, their twinkles all used up in their failed attempt to get there. Way in back of the crowd Rigel waved his point. _Me. I can do it_, he pleaded. _I can make it there_. The rest of the stars laughed at him and finally told him to give it a try just to prove they were right. But… Rigel was the one who made it. He was quick on his points and made it to Orion just in time.

_You are fast, said Betelguese, but are you bright? With all his energy, Rigel puffed up and glowed a brilliant gold, bright enough that the other stars had to shade their eyes. I'm proud of you, Rigel, said Betelguese, now take your position down there. You have an important job to do."_

Todd looked up into the dark sky blanketed with stars and pointed over to his right. "Now, if you look up there you'll see Orion. It's the brightest constellation. See? That's the outline of the hunter and his sword. And if you look real hard, you can see the two brightest stars of all. Betelgeuse - the shoulder, and Rigel down at the foot."

Carter was just as caught up in the story as the children and peeked around the post finding Orion right where Todd had pointed.

"But Rigel didn't want to be part of a constellation," Joseph said wearing Todd's overly large SU cap.

"Was he happy?" Mbuto asked, his newly acquired English skills finally coming together.

"He did a very good job where he was needed," Todd told them as he put his reassuring arm around Mbuto, "and he made Betelguese proud of him, and that made him very happy."

"Some day I will make my father proud too," A naïve Mbuto told him with the soul of a wise man.

"Come children," Toomay clapped her hands as she came out of the Midway and shooed the younger kids away, "it's bedtime. Say goodnight to Todd and Dr. Carter."

As Todd was hugging the children, giving high fives, he scanned the porch finally spying Carter to the side wiping his mouth with the towel, his dirty plate and silverware next to him.

The children left with Toomay just as Sean was making the rounds with some packages. "Bob stopped in town today and picked up some parcels. You're one of the lucky ones today," he said to Todd as he handed a box to him. "Goodnight all."

"From home?" Carter asked from the darkened corner. The lights went on in the dorm across from the hangar and music could be heard as the students started their evening card game.

_(Lyrics to a few lines of I Had a Dreamsung by JossStone and written by John B. Sebastian previously properly attributed, deleted as per new regulations by site administrators 5/3/05. The complete original text of Pocket Change can be found at LUKAFIC)_

Todd moved over and sat opposite Carter against the railing. He pulled two packages from the box, one in wrapping paper. "My birthday was yesterday. I'm surprised they remembered." Inside the gift wrap were home made cookies. "My mom's cookies," he laughed. "Snickerdoodles, my favorite." He held the box out to Carter and Paulette who remained behind sitting above them on a bench. "Join me?"

"Snicker what?" Carter reached for one.

"Doodle - snicker_doodle_. You never had these? Oh, Dr. Carter, you were sheltered," Todd joked as Carter smiled and nodded.

"It's just Carter. Actually it's John, but most people call me Carter."

They sat and enjoyed the slightly stale cookie in silence.

"What's in the other box?" Carter asked pointing to the smaller plain white box.

Todd pulled it out and opened it, sighing in part resignation, part disappointment. "From my dad. A stethoscope."

Carter sat up and took a look at the box. "Not just any stethoscope. A Littman Master Classic II Gold Edition." He whistled his awe as Todd opened the box and looked at his birthday present. Looked, but didn't take it out.

"Hmm."

Carter leaned his head back and studied the young man whose face was alone and so introspective. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

"Twenty-one? And already in graduate school?" Carter almost choked on his tongue.

"I was home schooled. Entered college at sixteen." Todd put his box back together and pushed it to the side. It was obvious that he had thoughts on his mind. "Dr. Carter… _Carter_, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure"

"When you and Dr. Kovac were in the Congo, held captive… I mean, when you were being…," Todd struggled as he asked the most uncomfortable question, " …how did you get, um…"

"How did I get through it?" Carter finished for him.

Todd nodded shyly.

"Human instinct, I guess," he shrugged, yet Todd's face wanted more. "Okay, well, I guess when you are placed in a situation like that you pull on your human instinct to survive and protect. The strength comes from no where, and adrenalin takes over rational thinking." Carter glanced over at the young man who hid his face under his cap, in the shadows. "You find yourself doing things you never realize you're capable of. I can't explain why or how, you just do. Something just takes over."

"My father says I'm weak, that I can't make a quality of life decision on my own."

"Well, that's not what I've seen. I think it sounds more like you can't make decisions that he approves of. Right?" Todd nodded his head. "Well, I hear ya. Todd, we're all weak. Our weaknesses are really our strengths, because we have to be strong to pull ourselves past them, and ultimately we do to survive."

"I wish I could get past my family," Todd mumbled to himself, his head hanging. "I used to dream about belonging to another family down the street. Having a dad who didn't laugh when I told him what I wanted to do with my life."

_(Lyrics deleted)_

"Well, Todd, you are the captain of your ship. Only you can steer the direction you're going in."

"My dad thinks I'm here learning to appreciate the medical profession, and I'm letting him think that."

"And what are _you _getting out of your experience?"

"I really like working with the kids. I mean I love my science and I'll always do research, but I think I want to go back and get my teaching degree. Maybe teach science." He smiled and perked up at that self revelation. "When they find out, will they forgive me? And how do I know if I'm doing the right thing?"

"You will. You don't have to prove yourself to anybody but you. Someone once told me… someone very special…," Carter paused and looked at Paulette on the bench. She smiled back at him. "Paulette's father once told me that forgiveness is easy. Forgiveness is something you do for yourself. You do it, you feel better, you move on. It's what you **don't** do with your life that you can never go back and fix. That's regret. And you live with that for the rest of your life." The beautiful African teenage girl sitting behind Todd smiled at Carter and closed her eyes, catching a little bit of a happy memory before it got away. "And on that note, it's getting late. I'm on call, but I think I'd better go tell the partiers in the dorms to quiet down before I get to work."

Carter stood and left Todd and Paulette to themselves. As he was heading down the steps he almost tripped over Maggie who had parked herself in the shadows of the bottom step.

"Hey, I came to see if you wanted to go over charts," she told him.

"Yeah. But I've got to go talk to those yahoos in the dorm first. Take my plate for me?"

"Sure. Hey Carter," she called out to him before he could get too far, "you're really good with Todd. Those were some really nice things you said."

He wasn't much for compliments and shrugged his shoulders at her in response before turning and heading to the dorm.

They had fallen asleep in each other's arms after dinner. There were few inpatients, the clinic was quiet and a nice breeze pushed through Luka's window. He awoke with a start taking in a huge gulp of air. "I can't see," he gasped with a frightful voice.

"What?" Colleen sat up and rested her tired head on his chest. "Yes, you can. Luka?"

He cleared his throat and shook his head to bring him back to reality. "I'm sorry. It's just a dream."

"And you couldn't see?"

"I said that?" The palms of his hands rubbed both eyes briskly. "Hmm. Blindfolded," he mumbled.

"Do you ever sleep through the night?"

"I'm a doctor. It's not in my nature." Luka pushed the netting aside and got out of bed. He walked over to the window and pushed the towel aside he used as a curtain, resting his head on his arm propped on the sill.

"Really, Luka. You hardly sleep anymore." Colleen took advantage of the freed up space and rolled over onto her stomach hoarding the one pillow. "I don't think you and Carter sleep enough for even one person, let alone two."

The narrow hallway did little to preserve the privacy of the doctors who occupied the bedrooms. A door opened and closed close by and muffled voices caught Colleen's attention. "Carter again?"

"He's on call."

"Even when he's not on call that door always seems to be opening and closing a lot."

"No more so than mine, I guess." Luka watched as Carter crossed the compound and went into the student dorm again. The first time Luka saw him leave the dorms a couple hours before, he was carrying what looked like bottles of wine. Now he was enthusiastically greeted by a couple of kids waiting for him, his arms occupied by a case of beer.

"Luka?"

"What?" He was lost in thought.

"I asked you what demon was keeping you company in your sleep. Does he have a name?"

He was still in there, all the lights were on and although he couldn't hear specific conversation, the music, laughter and raucous voices carried through the still night air. Luka turned around and tried to ignore his concerns. While he gave Colleen his attention, out of the corner of his eye he kept a watchful eye on the dorm. "Jules Akonda-Bouche. Ever hear of him?"

"He's the one inside your head?"

"I guess you could say that. He kind of makes himself at home."

Colleen crawled out of bed and walked over to join Luka at the window, slipping her arms around his waist. "Stop watching him. He's a grown man."

"He's also a doctor on call. I think I'll go tell the nurses to come get me if they need a doc."

"Leave it, Luka. Don't assume the worst and let the nursing staff make their own judgments. They know where you are." She could feel his muscles tense as the kids whooped it up. "Are you protecting him or the clinic?"

"Both, maybe. Speaking of which," Luka combed his fingers through her hair, finally tipping her head back to better reach her neck with his lips, "who protected you while you were off playing in the Congo?"

"Hmm," the tiny kisses he planted alongside her pulsating jugular artery sent a shiver down her back, "I like to call him, Dirty Harry."


	17. Chapter 17 Escape, Withdrawal & Disguise

**POCKET CHANGE : A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**Chapter Seventeen**

Luka combed his fingers through her hair, finally tipping her head back to better reach her neck with his lips, "who protected you while you were off playing in the Congo?"

"Hmm," the tiny kisses he planted alongside her pulsating jugular artery sent a shiver down her back, "I like to call him, Dirty Harry."

Not much prompted Luka Kovac to suddenly halt lovemaking, except the mention of another man. He pulled his hungry mouth away from Colleen's smooth, salty neck just far enough to quiz her. "Who's Harry and why is he dirty?" He moved his head just slightly tickling her face with his dark hair that fell to his forehead.

Colleen moved her hand to the front of Luka's neck and traced the outside of his trachea with the tip of her finger, lingering around the bony prominence. "Harry came into my life a few months ago." She kissed his Adam's apple and dragged her lips up his neck, over his chin to his mouth where she finished answering him all the while tasting his flesh ever so slightly. "He's handsome, big and strong, and quite loaded."

As Colleen leaned in for a kiss, Luka pulled back teasing her each time she would move in on his warm lips. "That's not fair," she pouted mockingly.

"Am I not handsome?"

"Mmm. Devastating."

He allowed her one small kiss.

"Am I not strong?"

"My hero," she purred.

He pressed his lips into hers for a more adequate prize, letting her nibble on his lower lip as he pulled away.

"Am I not… _big_?" he chuckled, his eyes sparkling.

"Mmm hmm, _very_."

He parted his lips letting her tongue venture in just briefly.

"And am I not loaded?"

Colleen could not stand it any longer as she threw her head back and laughed out loud. "I'm not sure about that one."

"So who _is _Mr. Dirty Harry?"

Colleen broke away from Luka and wandered over to the corner where her previously ditched backpack was still propped against the wall. Luka admired her bare back side with a tilt of the head as the t-shirt inched up in her efforts to bend over and reach to the bottom. The globes of her cheeks down there were smooth and supple - he smiled to himself as he sneaked over to her and cupped one in each hand stroking the divide with his thumbs. She giggled, then moaned as he leaned into her raking the back of her neck with his teeth, resting his erect cock on the aforementioned divide. When she straightened up and turned in his arms to reciprocate, Luka startled and jumped backwards.

"That's Dirty Harry?" he asked pointing to the object in her hands, his erection quickly heading south.

"Yep. It was given to me when I first made landfall."

"And you know how to use it?"

"Colt King Cobra, .357 Magnum with a four-inch barrel and high polish stainless steel finish." Colleen turned it over in her hands admiring the weapon and its capabilities. "It's a double action with a 150 foot range, has a six shot cylinder and an adjustable rear sight. Weight 2.6 pounds and can fire .38 rounds as well as .357." She popped out the cylinder and gave it a spin before slapping it back in place, handling the gun with the same concentration and skill as she did her cameras.

"And you know how to use it?" Luka repeated.

"Yes, I know how to use it. My father knew guns," she explained. But then more quietly to herself, "Boy, did he know guns."

"Have you ever had to use it?"

"_Had _to use it? Hell, no," she said with a smile of relief, "but I do practice when I get a chance." Colleen held the barrel of the gun next to her mouth and blew over it, raising an eyebrow at Luka.

"And you're good?"

"Dead on target." She held the unloaded weapon up and pointed it at the window, looking straight down the barrel. Cocking back the hammer with her thumb, the subtle audible _click _made Luka take a step back. "Once you cock it," she moved her finger over the trigger as she concentrated on the imaginary target in the distance, "you're committed to shooting." Even though it was absent bullets, Luka could almost hear the bang. "That's one touchy trigger. Doesn't take much."

Luka stood with his arms folded taking it all in. "You, ah… this is definitely not something I pictured doing with a semi-naked woman."

"Sexy, huh?"

"Only if you don't point that thing at me."

Letting the revolver slip from her grip and spin upside down resting only on her index finger in the trigger assembly, Colleen became less determined about the function of the gun and more with the task of her man. "Well then Sheriff, it looks like I'll have to surrender."

Luka took the heavy revolver from her hand and placed it carefully on top of her backpack before turning his attentions back to the sultry red head. "You know I'll have to search you," he playfully spoke as he let his hands wander up inside her shirt. "It's for your own safety as well as mine."

* * *

"How long has he been like that?" Maggie asked Sera, pointing to Carter face down on a treatment table sound asleep, his arms hanging over the sides.

"My nurses said he's been like that off and on all night." Sera and Maggie had just completed rounds and were sitting down to a fresh cup of coffee. "And he snores."

"Drools too," Maggie pointed out as she drifted to the side of the table and leaned over to check out his face.

"Poor baby," Sera lamented, "he's been through a lot. There wasn't much to do last night. Even when it was quiet they say he wandered around. When I came on two hours ago he was sitting up sound asleep with one of the newborn babies on his chest. _Both _snoring."

"Probably both drooling too," Maggie joked.

"Huh?"

"I said you drool like a baby."

"Thanks. What time is it?"

"Nine o'clock, Sleeping Beauty." Maggie slapped the sole of his shoe. "Rise and shine."

"Aaaaarrggh," he moaned trying to get himself vertical. He finally got as far as lifting his upper body up and resting it on his elbows.

"Hey, you're shaking."

"Bad back."

"Yeah? Take your shirt off. I'll give you a back rub."

Carter hesitated briefly before giving in, then pulled his shirt over his head. It was a relief to take the pressure off of his shoulders and fall back down onto the thin mattress. The pressure from Maggie's hands was even better.

"Sorry. Nothing fancy. Just this standard hospital lotion we get in bulk." Maggie slowly worked her hands into Carter's back muscles consciously trying to avoid the scars. "Now you smell like a beautacious flower."

"Oh, Mags," Carter lackadaisically slipped out, "this is… this is… **_my God _**you're good with your hands! Are you sure you're not at least a little bit attracted to men?"

"Carter, your spare parts are all wrong for the make and model I like to drive." She methodically pushed the heels of her palms up and down his back just hard enough to ripple the skin and deep enough to define the bones of his skeleton. Yet Maggie couldn't help avoid those scars. Not the ones from the stabbing. They had faded to a shiny minor defect, but the others - the ones Luka had eluded to when they were trying to save the one armed rebel - drew her in and taunted her as she fought the mental pictures that they imposed on her mind.

"Hey Carter," she said as she cleared her throat, "are these marks here from that guy we worked on? The guy with the one arm?"

The zone he had fallen into with his face comfortably nestled in his arms folded beneath his head, was suddenly broken as Carter's eyes flew open in the realization that he had unintentionally bared an awful lot to Maggie that he wasn't prepared to talk about. At least not at that point. She was asking him another question, maybe just making small talk, but he didn't hear it as his heavy breathing and pounding heart took precedence.

_Whish-snap._

Carter drew in a startled breath as that moment came back to him, and he squeezed his eyes shut hoping to escape the memory.

_Whish-snap._

He couldn't move his arms that had fallen asleep under the weight of his head and he groaned as he felt the leather strap split open his back again.

"I bet this feels good, Carter. You were just asking for it." Her words were not totally lost, but they were certainly not heard for what they were.

_Whish-snap._

"Untie my arms," he mumbled.

"What?" Maggie wasn't sure that what she heard fit.

"Untie my arms. I said **let me go**. **_Stop_**." There was no denying that, as Carter suddenly rolled off the table and haphazardly got dressed.

Carter's shirt trembled as he wrestled it back on. Maggie couldn't help but notice the beads of sweat that had accumulated on his face and were now rolling off his chin and nose, his nervous, labored breathing accentuated by the occasional facial twitch.

"What?" Maggie begged, quick on his heels as he stormed out of the building. "John, what's wrong?"

Pushing both swinging doors open at once, Carter choked on the fresh, but humid morning air, gulping as much of it down in one breath as he could. Maggie found him bent at the waist, resting his shaking arms on his knees.

"Carter."

Trying in vain to hide his private little hell, he straightened up and arched his back. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

Off to the side of the Midway, under the trees, Carter saw Bob and Colleen in deep, heated conversation. Arms waving, fingers pointing and voices raised.

"Shit. I forgot about Bob's interrogation." Carter wiped the sweat from his face and turned on his heels walking back into the clinic. "I can't deal with that right now."

No sooner was he in the doors than Norman was on top of him with an arm load of papers.

"Dr. Carter, you have invoices to approve, correspondences with the Foundation you haven't answered yet and we absolutely have to talk about the problem with the clinic supplies."

"I can't do it right now, Mr. Tyson." Carter tried as best he could to put the man off but he was persistent and followed along as Carter made his way towards the back of the hanger and his bedroom.

"We need to sit down and get through this today, Dr. Carter."

"**Not now, Norman**."

The two stood face to face outside the office neither one willing to back down.

"Look, _John_," Norman gave back although in a much lowered voice, "until we find additional support from other sources, your actions - or rather inactions - here have forced the Board to halt some of the financing, namely in the area of the clinic."

"So you're just going to take away all this? Leave these people with the only medical care they can get?"

"Good, glad to see you two here," Sean announced as he opened the office door and unknowingly interrupted the two. "Come on in. We have some things to discuss. You too, Colleen." He waved his hand over his head as she burst through the front doors herself. "Where's Othiamba?"

"All you people going to take off my doors if you don't stop bustin' through like that," Sera called after Colleen hoping that Sean heard her. "Othiamba took the children to town for ice cream."

"In the morning?" Maggie asked aloud.

"Ever try to eat ice cream in Africa in the middle of the day, missy?" Sera had a viable point.

So there in the office, all together, was Luka, Carter, Norman, Colleen, Maggie and Sean. It seemed Sean was the only one who had anything to say.

"Okay. Who wants to start?"

Norman fidgeted with the pencils all lined up on his desk, Carter unwrapped a stick of gum and turned his back on Luka who purposely looked away from Carter. Colleen was miffed herself after Bob's verbal spanking and sought refuge in a chair next to Luka, her feet propped up on the side of the desk in Norman's face. Maggie stood off to the side watching Carter, lost in thought herself. After Carter tossed his piece of paper in the garbage, the only sound heard was the ticking of the air conditioner as it automatically changed settings. Just the ticking and the hum.

_Click, tick._

_Hum._

"Colleen?" Sean attempted to initiate discussion.

"Baghdad Bob out there already reamed my ass. Next?" That was it for her.

_Click._

"Mr. Tyson."

"My business is with Dr. Carter and it seems he can't find time in his busy schedule for me or the Foundation."

Carter smirked and shook his head in disgust.

_Hum._

"Okay. John."

"Nope. I've got nothing to say."

"Me too," Luka threw in without even being prompted.

"Well, aren't we a powerful lot of feckin' eejits?" Sean threw his arms up in the air and turned a chair backwards slamming it into the floor before straddling the seat. "Alright, I'll start. Somewhere along the lines we've forgotten our purpose here and turned it into a personal drama. Well, let me put a stop to that now."

Sean turned to Carter and Luka. "You two bollocks haven't been taking care of yourselves and look _absolutely _knackered. That's no example to set for the workers here and no fair to those of us who have to put up with ye arses. Now work together and deal with Mr. Tyson. **Do it **or they be shuttin' down the joint."

"Oh for God's sake, speak English, Griffin," Colleen whined.

"Speak English? You, _slapper_, need to shut your gob and be grateful that you're still welcome here after what you and Carter put us through." The insinuation of her lack of morals was loud and clear as she glared back at Sean.

"Is it really necessary to go through this again?" Carter finally spoke up.

"Come up with a better way to keep track of your supplies," Norman interjected, "and we wouldn't be doing this."

"I've got a lock for the door now. Any supplies that leave have to be signed out by two people," Luka said.

"But that doesn't tell us who has been stealing them." Norman wasn't satisfied with a solution. He wanted answers.

"Who did you have in mind, Norman?" Carter asked sick of the whole thing. "Hmm?"

"Without making vituperative attacks, I'd have to say it's obviously someone who works here."

"Who, huh? Who is at the top of your anal retentive list?" Carter stood and paced around the room. "Sean bought that Land Rover. Thought we were strapped for cash."

Sean rolled his eyes and sighed. "John…"

"And Othiamba?" Carter was rare form, not listening to anyone but himself. "He bought the bus supposedly with money he saved up for America, yet he always manages to take the kids out of camp for lavish trips like for ice cream." His pointing finger made its way around the room. "Maggie has a secret supply of meds she keeps around just for shits. And Bob - the Beer Meister. He's a mystery all unto his own. Luka? Well gee, he holds the keys. And let's not forget Toomay and her sneaky band of kids. Can't trust them, oh no."

"I did see that older girl of hers walking around today with a fancy new gold stethoscope around her neck," Colleen let out.

Carter threw his arms up in exasperation. "And she would have traded all those drugs at what modern medical supply store in Pakwach? Jesus, Colleen, you're scraping the bottom of the barrel, aren't you? I mean, who's left?"

_Click, tick, hum._

Colleen lifted her eyes to Carter quite intentionally. He looked at the others in the room at first to laugh at her insinuation but soon found that they too were looking at him. "Oh no, don't even go there. _Don't_. Luka?" He tilted his head to look at Luka who quickly averted his own eyes. "Well there is one more person who has escaped suspicion. How about it -Colleen?"

"What?" she sharply blurted out while getting to her feet and taking Carter on face to face. "You know being a woman in a man's job I've been accused of a lot. But that's low." Luka reached up and held her hand, coaxing her back into her seat.

"Now, this is ridiculous," Sean finally intervened. "It's not productive and just causes more trouble. Hmm? Okay look, tomorrow morning we are getting a visit from some dignitaries at the request of President Museveni." A round of sighs circulated among the attendees. "Now, please listen. These people are from very prominent corporations in Europe and the Middle East looking to spend some of their charitable money. If we work this right we can take some of the pressure off of the Carter Foundation. This is right up your alley, Colleen. I wouldn't mind some publicity this time. They're coming in by military choppers. They have a tight schedule - it's posted on the Midway board. At the same time I've also convinced our Ugandan army friends to fly the supplies in we've been waiting on for the satellite clinic. John, after they leave you can drive them over. I assume you'll be going into Gulu again."

Carter nodded his head. "I need to get there today too, soon."

"Again?" Luka asked.

"Yes, again. I'm taking clinic call at night. Didn't think you'd object, seeing as you have…" Carter kept the rest of the thought to himself as he traded stares with Colleen.

Luka didn't even honor that quip with a retort and just shook his head.

Again, silence befell the room, each person nearly biting their tongue to keep from striking out at another.

"Are we done here?" Carter stood and grabbed the keys to the Rover stopping only at the doorway for the nod of Sean's head before throwing open the door and rushing through the clinic making sure to punctuate his exit by hitting the double swinging doors with both arms outstretched. Sera glowered the length of the hangar at Sean still in the office.

For once, Norman took the hint from the remaining staff and found a reason to take leave himself.

"Should we be worried about him, Luka?" Sean finally asked.

He found himself without words, shrugging and looking around for help. "I want to say no."

"But…?"

"But…," Luka stood and walked over to the window, leaning on the sill watching Carter drive through the gate. It reminded him of a similar day several months earlier, only it was Bob looking out that window waiting for the transport to Kampala. He was worried about Carter then too. "… it's hard not to come to the conclusion that he's…" Again, a loss for words.

"Look, I wasn't in Chicago when he went through the addiction," Maggie added, "but I know him well enough not to automatically think that that's where he's at. I mean what do we really have to go on?"

"He's not eating well, not sleeping," Sean put in.

"He's had the shakes a few times," Colleen interjected, "and the other day when we were, well, _there, _his sleep was real agitated and he woke up in sweats."

"Oh, come on," Maggie was not about to let Colleen define Carter, "there are any number of things to explain those symptoms, yet you automatically think he's using? Hell, a newborn baby sleeps better than you, Luka."

"Nausea and vomiting, excessive watery discharge from the mouth, tremors, inability to concentrate… mood swings." Luka spoke into the window away from the people as he rested his arm atop his drawn up knee. "And I think he's been drinking."

Sean thought aloud as well. "He leaves here for Gulu agitated and depressed and always returns upbeat or at least content."

"That doesn't explain the missing supplies that aren't narcotics. He's not getting high on suture material and xylocaine." Maggie was grasping at straws.

"Ever been to Gulu, Maggie?" Sean asked getting a negative response. "There's a bad drug problem there. All over Uganda actually. It's not a cash for product trade in this country. The addicts trade or barter. You guys found that out back in Ikela. Carter knows how it works."

"The guy is working at the hospital there. If he wants the stuff it's right in front of him. Hell, it's right here."

"It would have been too obvious too soon. Maggie, addicts are very good at what they do," Sean explained.

Again, the room was dense with silence, nobody wanting to admit their thoughts and verify their fears.

"Let's think on this tonight. Tomorrow, when he returns from Gulu, we need to talk to him," Sean finally committed.

"Is this _really _what you want?" Maggie looked around. "Sean? Luka?" Maggie was the next to storm out. Sean followed, hands in his pocket, quietly exiting through the back door.

"You're a worrier." Colleen walked over to Luka and joined him at the window resting her own chin on his knee and pushing his dark hair from his eyes.

"Mmm. I suppose. Never knew what it was like to truly worry about someone until I became a father."

Colleen pulled back as this bit of fresh information sunk in. "Didn't know you had kids."

"You didn't ask," he playfully retorted not offering anything more.

"I miss Amanda most when I think about my own childhood." Colleen sat at the other end of the windowsill leaning her head against the glass. "Well, the few good times we had. God, I loved the snow. There was this big black man, Lewis, who lived all alone in the apartment across from ours. The other kids made fun of him 'cause he spoke with a lisp and wore old mismatched clothes. I don't think he was all too bright. Lewis was the only person who ever played with me. My father was either always drunk or working. My mother … well she had her own '_work'_. I would sit at the window and press my face against the glass waiting for Lewis to come home from work. And he'd take me out and make snow angels with me," she smiled as she reached back and grabbed the memory, "and snow forts." Luka watched her as she stared out the window sure she was seeing a snowed in street corner. "He even took me down to the Salvation Army once and bought me a pair of pink snow pants. Bright pink, with a little daisy sewn into the corner. Sometimes Lewis was the only grown up I would see for days." She smiled as she put her hand on the glass, but her fingers felt only heat, not the ice crystals of a snowy day in Boston.

"That's sad," Luka said as he reached out and put his hand on top of hers.

"No, actually, that's a great memory. How often do you get to see your kids?"

"I don't." Luka took her hand off the pane and held it, caressing her fingers with his thumb. He waited for the inevitable question, but instead she waited for him to do the talking. "My family was killed in the war in Croatia."

Her soft look, the touch of her warm hand on his face was all he needed. She didn't press him to talk, but instead let him keep his thoughts his own.  
_  
**

* * *

Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, or lies. Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort. **-Jean Cocteau 1889-1963, French Author, Filmmaker**

* * *

**_

-Jean Cocteau 1889-1963, French Author, Filmmaker 

Maggie sat on the steps of the Midway waiting for Carter. She wanted to see for herself the drug addict, as the rest of the group had painted him, drive through the gate. She just didn't see it. Her gut told her to look deeper.

"Hey, Dr. Doyle. We got a new patient for you."

A group of student volunteers rushed from between the buildings, Danny's hand on a bloody Buzby's head.

"Oh, Buzby," Maggie sighed as she gave up her seat on the steps to attend to the young man, "what have you gone and done?" She escorted the crowd into the clinic and set Buzby at the nearest treatment table.

"I walked into a door."

"You're going to have to think of some other excuse," Maggie light heartedly scolded him. "Walking into a door does not make for an exciting scar story."

"No. He really walked into a door," Danny explained laughing. "We're framing the new storage building today and Buzby was joking around. _POW_! Right into the door frame."

"Gosh, Buzby," Luka joined the tittering crowd, "you weren't even drinking? Dr. Doyle is right. You have to find something more noble to blame it on."

"Okay, everybody else out. Danny's hand and Buzby's head stays," Maggie scolded.

As Maggie examined Buzby, Luka got Danny cleaned up.

"Any open cuts on your hand, Danny?"

"No. Why?"

"Well in case you didn't notice, your hand has been intimate with Buzby's blood." Luka explained.

"Hey, Buzby… _Doofus_… have I got anything to worry about? Like you and unprotected sex? Or…"

"Or what? Shit, no. _OW_!"

"Sorry," Maggie was injecting the Xylocaine around the wound on his head. "More bee stings. How about it, Buzby, when was your last HIV test?"

"How about never."

"Then we should test both of you. Feel that?" Maggie poked around the numbed area as Buzby shook his head."

"Don't need to."

"Why's that?" Maggie asked.

"Are you….?" Danny couldn't contain himself. "Are you _a virgin_?"

"Shut up, Danny."

"_You're a virgin_. Shit, even Todd is gettin' some with his little African girlfriend."

Maggie and Luka shared a look of concern.

"_Fuck you." _Buzby pulled away from Maggie

"Hope not!"

"**All right**," Luka got between them. "That's enough. Danny, you can leave."

"Danny," Maggie called out as she started suturing Buzby, "I expect that you will honor Buzby's confidence just as everyone else does here at the clinic. And Danny?" She tied and cut the first interrupted suture as Danny turned around at the door. "I'd hate to have to come get you out of the dining hall for a whole battery of STD tests seeing as your behavior here could be a sign of syphilis." His mouth tightly closed, Danny left the clinic.

"Mind?" Colleen asked as she aimed the camera at Buzby and Maggie.

"Heck, this picture could get you all kinds of sympathy, if you know what I mean," Maggie joked getting a smile from her patient. "Almost done. Only about eight stitches, but we can fudge and say a dozen."

"One more stick." Luka swabbed Buzby's arm. "Tetanus booster. Did you loose consciousness?"

"No."

"Okay. Hang around here for about an hour so we can watch you." Luka pushed the used needle and syringe into the red sharps container a little too hard tumbling it into a box on the floor next to the table. As he bent down to pick it up, the bloodied backpack in the box caught his attention. He remained squatting on the floor, biting at his lower lip, contemplating whether or not he should look through the dead man's belongings.

"Luka, what's wrong?" Colleen asked.

He finally put the sharps container back on the table, then picked up the backpack with his gloved hand.

"Is that…?" Maggie asked as she cleaned Buzby's sutured wound and dressed it.

Opening the pack, he looked inside, catching site of the gun and knife. He left those there not wanting to alarm the kid. He did pull out a bright yellow object about the size of a cell phone. "What's this?"

Colleen shrugged her shoulders. "I've never seen anything like that."

"Me either," Maggie added.

"I know what it is," Buzby spoke up. "It's a Garmin Geko 101 GPS." The three adults looked at each other and instantly included Buzby in their quest to find out more. "A GPS - Global Positioning System. You know - longitude and latitude. You can get something like that for about a hundred bucks these days."

"What for?" Luka asked.

"Lots of things. Back home we go GeoCaching." It was clear that he would have to explain that. "It's a game, played all over the world actually. Teams go to a website where they can find coordinates of caches - small containers with little trinkets inside, a log book and other stuff. You use the GPS to guide you to the cache. Sometimes it's easy to find, other times it's a real hike and complicated." Maggie moved away from Buzby and looked through the backpack herself. "You log your find in the book, take a trinket and leave one of your own, then log it on the website. Sometimes you find what's called a travel bug that you don't keep, but instead put back into another cache further away so it can get as many miles as possible."

"I think I found this guy's cache," Maggie mumbled keeping her find inside the pack. "Buzby, you can go lie down over next to the nurse's desk.

Once Buzby was out of the area, Maggie took out what she found: A large Zip Loc baggie with vials of narcotics and local anesthetics, and a box of disposable syringes. She turned them over in her hands, then passed them to Luka. "Why would he have this stuff?" she wondered aloud.

"It's ours." Luka announced.

"What?"

"Ours. See?" He pointed to the label on a few of the vials. "I started marking the narcotics last week." On the vial he held up there were three tiny hand written letters: **_J K L_**

"How could he possibly get in here without anybody noticing," Colleen asked. "It's not like he would blend in."

"I don't think he did." Luka checked the syringes as well.

"So you can't blame Carter for this one. He wasn't even here the day this creep was found," Maggie hoped aloud.

"I mark them every morning. Each day of the month is a different letter, A through Z, then AA through EE. All of these things are coded last with the letter -**_K_**-." Luka took the supplies out and zipped shut the backpack throwing it back in the box. "The day we found this guy was an -**_M_**- day. However he got them, they left the clinic the day Carter left."

"So did Colleen," Maggie gave him, "I don't see you pinning blame on her."

Colleen's eyes rolled.

"She was with me."

Maggie sat up on the table. "What could that guy possibly have that Carter would want?"

"Cocaine, Heroine, Morphine, Crystal Meth…" Colleen stopped listing them after Maggie drilled a hole through her with her eyes.

"No. No. You saw what it did to Carter to see the guy."

"Maggie, maybe he put this out there not knowing who would pick it up."

Maggie continued to shake her head. "Way too many movies, Kovac. You are so far out there." She slapped off her gloves and tossed them in the medical waste bin before leaving the building .

* * *

The tour of the camp was a success. Sean was in his glory showing the group of about fifteen men and women around, talking non-stop. Luka noticed that Carter was also in money raising mode, glad-handing the potential donors and talking about business colleagues and friends they had in common. Even Bob made an appearance as a "volunteer" helping to translate for the two Arabic speaking men. The children sang songs in the Midway during lunch and then showed off their soccer skills on the air field before the guests left via the choppers that had delivered them.

Luka took Danny aside at the soccer exhibition. "Danny, tell me, do you really think that Todd and Paulette have a relationship?"

"Nah. Well yeah, but not like… ya know." Danny looked at his shuffling feet, obviously not comfortable discussing the subject. "I mean at his party the other night he held her hand - and the missionary kids kind of took notice of that - but I don't think they're ever really alone. None of us are."

"What party?" Luka asked as he watched Todd and Paulette smile, laugh and talk together on the sidelines.

"For Todd. Dr. Carter told us it was his birthday so we kind of had an impromptu birthday party for him. Hey, any reason for a party, man."

"Have a good time?"

"Well, as much as the doc let us. He took our wine away and gave it to Toomay to hold. Came back later with enough beer for one a piece. He kept checking on us like a mother hen."

Luka had to laugh. "Put a crap in your plans, Danny?"

"It's _crimp _Dr. Kovac. A _crimp _in your plans."

After the visitors ascended, one of the four choppers stayed behind as the crew talked with Carter and Luka about the supplies.

"We'll be back tomorrow morning," one of the pilots told them. "We can take a passenger if either of you is interested."

"Thanks, I'd love to," Carter told him, "but I've got some work to do at our satellite clinic."

Luka was having second thoughts about the planned group discussion with Carter later that day, especially after finding out that his suspicions of drinking were unfounded. Taking Carter aside, he decided to give him a reason not to be there.

"I'll take the supplies over to the clinic. Why don't you go into Kampala. It'll do you good."

Carter nodded his head as he thought about the offer. "Is there a reason you want to get me away from here?"

"I guess you could say that. But because I think you need to get away, not because we're trying to railroad you."

"They're really expecting me in Gulu," Carter mumbled.

"They can do without you for one day."

"I guess I could use the time to call the Foundation. That might ease Norman's mind."

Luka smiled and felt like the old Carter was back. "You know, you might want to have a talk with Todd."

"About what?"

"Well, the kind of talk his father would have with him." Luka raised his eyebrows and grinned. "It seems that there may be something going on between him and Paulette."

"Ah, not to worry. Toomay and I have talked about that already. It's an innocent thing." He lowered his voice as Paulette and Todd walked towards them. "That stethoscope was a birthday present from his father and he gave it to her. Paulette is an eighteen year old girl away from home, missing her father and scared that she'll never amount to anything better than a refugee. She's kind of taken with him, but I wouldn't worry abut it. He'll be going home soon."

"Some of the children want to make the trip to the clinic too," Paulette told the doctors. "They haven't seen it yet."

"Where's Othiamba?" Luka asked.

Todd shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Haven't seen him all day. But Sera volunteered to drive the bus, and I'll go too."

"I guess it would be okay," Carter smiled. "The Rover's already loaded with the supplies, but Sera can follow Dr. Luka in the bus." The rotor on the chopper revved up prompting Luka to step back.

"You need anything?" Luka asked.

"Nope. Got my wallet." He paused before stepping up into the Chopper. "Luka? Thanks."

By the time the crew finished with their flight checks, made notations in their log books and got in the air, Luka and the bus had long ago left camp. Carter was buckled into one of the seats of the not-so-plush military chopper. The open doors to the side gave him a bird's eye view of the country he had last flown over a few months and an eternity ago. He was struck by how different the camp looked compared to their first impression when they initially got there. More buildings, the canvas shelters and even the crude landing zone marks the children had painted on the field just for the day's visitors. And life. It was brimming with life. His grandmother always told him that birds were the only creatures who could appreciate the beauty of their lives on earth because once they were airborne it was clear to them that their lives were truly small in the grand scheme of things. As they veered away from the camp and started following the Karuma/Pakwach Road he smiled at his grandmother - looked back at the camp and smiled.

Suddenly the chopper slowed as the aircraft navigated through a cloud of smoke rising from a vehicle engulfed in flames. On the other side of the gray and black curtain, Carter looked down and to his right doing a double-take as he recognized the camp bus stopped behind the burning vehicle. The chopper crew circled around the action and descended to get a better look.

"**Oh, shit**," Carter shouted. "That's our bus. _The camp bus_." He jabbed his finger in the air. "Down - we have to land."

"Dr. Carter, those are LRA rebels."

As he became deaf to the noise of the engine and rotors, Carter recognized what he had only seen in pictures: several rebel vehicles surrounding the car and bus. The heavily armed rebels, too many to count, with a gun to someone's head.

An ambush.

They had gotten close to the ground when the crew finally realized they were outnumbered and changed their minds. With Carter unbuckled and half way out the door the two soldiers had to grab him by his leg and belt to keep him from falling out. A bird's-eye-view. His arms were still outstretched, his body from the waist up hanging out of the side door as the chopper jolted and he was roughly pulled back into the chopper.

If hanging out of a chopper wasn't enough, the rebels started shooting at them forcing the crew to take evasive maneuvers. With Carter finally pinned down on the floor of the chopper quite forcefully by one of the soldiers, his face pressed so hard into the metal flooring he could barely breath, the other one grabbed a gun and prepared to shoot back.

"**No**," Carter pleaded, "_they're children. **Children**_."

But before any shots could be fired, a round hit the chopper in just the right place, sending it into a spin.


	18. Chapter 18 Innocence Lost

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Eighteen**

"Come," Sera called, "everybody to the bus. Come on, Mbuto. Put the ball down. There will be no football on the bus while I drive." She clapped her hands together to get the children's attention and hurry them to their seats. Luka was already in the Land Rover and out the gate ahead of them. "Mr. Casey, you and Paulette are the grown ups here. I expect you to keep these children in line," she called out to Todd as he counted the heads of the excited kids before sitting down with Paulette. Seventeen.

Having been through yet another period of drought and now perhaps the hottest day thus far, the dry earth bellowed up from behind the bus like fine powder coating anything and anybody nearby with a light brown covering. Sera masterfully shifted the old gears to get it up to speed as she waved to the guards at the gate and turned onto the road. The children opened what windows they were able, cooling themselves in the breeze that kicked in. Periodically Todd stood up in the front to check on the children and encourage them to stay in their seats. It was almost a lost cause as the excitement got the better of them, for some this being one of the first times on a bus. Singing songs, playing hand games, and watching the countryside whiz by was a treat. After the children settled in, Todd reached over to Paulette and gently took her hand in his, unaware of Sera's eyes in the mirror as she smiled at the budding romance, not a care that it was an upper class white boy from America and an African girl relegated to a refugee camp.

Luka kept checking his rear view mirror hoping he hadn't gotten too far ahead of Sera. He finally spotted the bus far off when he hit a straight-away and slowed down to let it catch up. As he came around a tight curve he was stopped by soldiers, _probably a check point_, he thought. Reaching over to get his papers, the doors of the Land Rover were opened and Luka was grabbed by the shoulders and brutally pulled out. He knew immediately that the men in the stolen government uniforms were not who they seemed.

"Take what you need," he pleaded hoping to get them to leave before the bus rounded the curve as well. "You can have any…" Before he could finish, the side of his face exploded in pain and he fell to the ground, his mouth taking in gravel and dirt while simultaneously pouring out blood. Luka squeezed his eyes closed a few times as he tried to refocus and get away from the darkness that threatened to peripherally creep in. Voices surrounded him and feet shuffled back and forth from the Rover to another vehicle. Again, he was grabbed and forced to stand, his arms painfully tied behind his back at the elbows and wrists. One of the men chillingly approached Luka, chambered a bullet in his pistol and put it to Luka's head. It was clear what his intentions were, but before the job could be completed the bus roared around the curve and nearly took out the Rover as the brakes were applied with great force.

"Ambush," Sera said to herself before repeating it louder to Todd and Paulette, "_Ambush_."

Todd immediately remembered the bullet points of what he had learned about these ambushes. Women were taken as sex slaves and children kidnapped and forced to take up arms for the LRA. And on that bus was a recipe for LRA rebel success. He gave Paulette's hand one more firm squeeze before letting go and turning his attention to the children.

One of the rebels came onto the bus and ordered the children out at gunpoint, save Sera who was made to stay in her seat. Todd stayed on the bus guiding the children off into Paulette's care, himself the last to exit. They were lined up against the bus - the seventeen children, Todd and Paulette - as the rebel soldiers looked them over. Todd's gut twisted as one of the men stopped in front of Paulette and stroked her cheek and lips with his filthy hand then fell his fingertips to her small breasts and violated them through the flowered fabric of her well worn dress. He laughed with another rebel and made sure to make eye contact with Todd as he used the barrel of his rifle to hike her dress up to her hip exposing her panties. Just as he ripped a corner of the bodice to her waist, the Land Rover went up in flames. Paulette held herself stiffly as the rebel took a break to check on the progress of their initial intent. She allowed herself only a moment of panic before crossing her arms over her bared breast and again reassured the children.

The roar of a helicopter soon tipped everyone's eyes skyward as it passed over, then circled back slowly descending as it checked out the action below. The smoke from the fire and blood from a cut on his eyebrow trickling into his right eye obstructed Luka's ability to make out who was in the chopper, but as he squeezed his right eye shut and focused with his left, he caught a glimpse of a white man being pulled back into the military aircraft and the chopper haphazardly rising back into the sky. As the wind shifted and the smoke took a different direction, Luka was blinded by the sun as it reflected off of the windshield of the chopper and he looked away just in time to see all of the weapons pointed at the helicopter.

If hanging out of a chopper wasn't enough, the rebels started shooting at them forcing the crew to take evasive maneuvers. With Carter finally pinned down on the floor of the chopper quite forcefully by one of the soldiers, his face pressed so hard into the metal flooring he could barely breath, the other one grabbed a gun and prepared to shoot back.

"**No**," Carter pleaded, "_they're children. **Children**_."

But before any shots could be fired, a round hit the chopper in just the right place, sending it into a spin.

"**_Hold on_**," somebody yelled.

With one of the soldiers still on top of him, Carter was glued to the floor of the chopper only insofar as the soldier was. As the soldier's body shifted towards the door, so did Carter's. He lost all perspective as he only caught glimpses of the ground and sky through the two open doors. The only thing he knew for sure was that they were still in the air. What he didn't know as they were being tossed around like a bag full of marbles was when or if they were going to crash. Carter finally pulled his right arm out from under him and grabbed the leg of one of the seats bolted into the floor. His stomach lurched with the spinning and acrid smell of the assorted leaking fluids and burning oil. Gritting his teeth, he could feel the skin on his hand being pulled taut by the weight of his body and the force of the out of control aircraft. It took every ounce of energy and strength he had to maintain his grip and groaned as his fingers began to slip away from the metal. He was suddenly pitched to the front of the chopper directly into the area leading to the flight crew, one of which was most obviously dead, a good portion of his face and head missing.

They were flying straight - sputtering - but going straight with the nose awkwardly pointed downward. One of the crew that had saved Carter stepped over him and pulled his dead comrade from his seat tossing him like dirty laundry into the back out of necessity.

"What should I do? I don't know…," Carter tried to ask as he was given a spare flight helmet, thrown back into a seat against the wall and buckled in, but the three remaining soldiers talked anxiously among themselves as they grappled with the controls trying to get them back to the camp.

"_No radio_," one of them called out.

"_Not sure if the landing gear is intact_."

"_Hold it steady there_. **_Hold it_**."

The third soldier stepped over the body and dove under the feet of the pilot taking hold of the controls down there and dutifully followed orders leaving Carter to be just a spectator. They were flying so low that the tops of the trees could be heard smacking the underside of the chopper, a few times the thin straggling arms of the tallest ones reaching inside and threatening to slap Carter in the side. Even though the five-point harness was not about to let him fall out, he instinctively held on to the sides of the seat as though it could provide a measure of safety the harness could not.

The camp was in site. As the chopper nosed in over the perimeter fence the chopper suddenly pitched sideways and down. Carter didn't know how they did it, but the three soldiers managed to bring them down without killing anyone on the ground. The sound of the loud metal **_THUD _**coincided with Carter's ass taking the force and his arms being thrown upwards in response. A second and third **_THUD _**were followed by the crunch of the blades as they slowed then cut into the dry ground spewing dirt and debris outwards away from the wounded chopper. For all intents and purposes Carter was on his back looking towards the sky through the open door of the aircraft as it rested on it's side.

He puffed the long awaited air from his lungs through his clamped together teeth that he had held since they first crossed the fence line. The harness restrained Carter so tightly that at the angle he was positioned in, with the body of the large dead man draped across his lower legs, he couldn't find the release, and after a moment of terror frozen shock he began to panic reaching for anything and everything. From nowhere a pair of arms reached his chest and pressed the buttons giving him freedom of movement. Looking up he recognized a vertical Bob hanging through that side door face to face with him.

"What the hell happened here, Carter?" he asked when he saw the bloodied and mutilated body of the Ugandan soldier.

It took a few deep, shaky breaths before Carter could even begin to comprehend what was said. His brain knew what happened, but his mouth couldn't get the words out.

"Carter? Come on, climb up and out. The crew can't get out until you do." Bob carefully pulled himself back up through the doors and rested on the shell of the chopper as he reached down and helped pull Carter out. "What happened?" he asked again once they were on the ground. "What were you doing in the chopper?"

"The bus," he spit out as he wrestled with the helmet. "It, ah…… it…." his entire body trembled as the adrenalin overtook him bringing him to his knees as his legs finally gave out.

Bob squatted in front of him and with the gentle voice of a man who had been there before, carefully brought Carter back to reality. "What about the bus, John," he smoothly asked, dipping his head forward to look into Carter's eyes. "Hmm?"

"They offered to take me to Kampala on an overnight," he said as he gestured to the three crew who had exited the chopper and were examining the wreckage. "We flew right over the bus. There was an ambush," he nervously got out, "we were right over it and they shot at us."

"Okay. So you witnessed an ambush on a bus." Bob was keeping his cool like a professional. "We'll make some calls and get the nearest military units out there to check on the people."

"It's our bus, Bob," Carter yelled as he got to is feet and started running towards the camp buildings. "**_Ours_**."

"_Carter_!"

Bob caught up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder forcing him to slow to a walk, but he wasn't quick enough to stop him before Sean, Maggie and Colleen got to him.

"Jaysus," Sean screamed, "what the bloody hell happened?"

"Rebels. They ambushed the bus."

"What bus?" Sean asked as he twirled around looking for the distinct camp bus in its usual parking spot. "The camp bus?"

"_Yes, the camp bus,_" Carter shouted, frustrated.

"The bus was out of the camp?" Sean asked combining his deep concern with a smattering of fury.

Carter kept walking until he reached Bob's black SUV. "Come on, we have to get out there." The information was fresh to the others as they stood and looked at Carter. "**Come on**," he yelled while pounding on the hood of the vehicle with his hand, his neck veins standing out.

"Wait, I'm confused here." Colleen's eyes were wide open.

"Me too," added Maggie.

Carter squeezed his eyes shut pissed that he had to waste time and go into detail. "The children are on the bus with Sera and Todd and Paulette. They wanted to go to the satellite clinic."

"I thought _you _were going," Colleen pointed out.

"I was, but Luka and I changed plans at the last minute. He took the Rover."

"Shite." Sean raised his hand to his worried face wiping the sweat from his brow. "Can't you two wankers do anything by the book?"

"Luka's out there?" Colleen asked answering her own question just with the look in her eyes. Carter didn't even have to answer as he stared at her.

"Did you see the car?" Sean asked.

Carter nodded. "It's not good. We have to get there."

"Bob, can't you just get your commando guys out there?" Maggie asked.

"That's not quite how it works," he replied.

Othiamba appeared in uniform running from the gate. "I heard what happened. Is anyone hurt?"

"Probably. But we have to get there," Carter answered impatiently.

"All of our vehicles are either out in the perimeter out of radio contact or on security detail with this morning's entourage at their next stop." Othiamba was grasping. "We're short - even I had to go on detail."

"_Come on_," Carter yelled.

"Okay, look. I'll go and take whatever men Othiamba can spare." Bob unlocked the SUV and took out a piece of paper, writing something on it. "Sean, this is my satellite number. You get on your horn and call the emergency number the army gave you. Carter, where is the bus?"

"Um….," he raked his fingers through his hair as he tried to imagine the location on a map. "It's on the highway going to Gulu maybe about 15 kilometers from here. It's that big bend in the road after the long straight away."

"I'll go," Othiamba volunteered, "and we'll pick up a couple more men at the gate."

"I'm going too," Carter added.

"Me too," from Maggie.

And of course, "I'm just going to grab a camera. Hold on," from Colleen.

"**Stop**." Bob put his arms out in front of him. "Just - stop. Nobody else goes. Reilly, this is not a photo op."

"But…"

"No, Colleen. I mean it." Bob walked closer to her face. "You and Harry stay here."

Carter opened the passenger door just in time for Bob to slam it shut. "You and Maggie stay here too."

"No way. You're going to need a doctor."

"More than one," Maggie threw in. "And especially one that can handle a firearm."

Bob gripped his face and tapped on his mouth as he thought about the possibilities. "Okay," he finally agreed as he opened the rear swinging door, "but you both have to be armed." He pulled up the floor of the rear revealing a huge cache of weapons of all makes and sizes.

"_Sweet_," Maggie admired as she gazed at the assortment before finally picking up her choice of weapon and locking a clip into it while pocketing some spares.

Bob carefully picked the easiest of pistols and held it out to Carter.

"No," he refused. "Uh-uh. I don't do guns."

"You saw first hand the weapons these rebels carry and their lack of restraint in using them," Bob said as he took out guns and loaded them. "You'll need to protect yourself."

"I'll drive then. You sit shot gun." Carter didn't give Bob a chance to respond as he quickly put himself behind the wheel of the vehicle. "I think you have the gun thing covered," he told Maggie as she sat behind him, dressed in two large automatic weapons.

With Othiamba and Bob finally in the SUV, they picked up two more soldiers at the gate who sat backwards on the open tailgate.

The drive was tense as weapons were checked again and Bob gave out instructions. In his mind, Carter saw the road from above first winding around, then giving way to the long straight section that went for miles before that one curve. The road was suspiciously empty, completely devoid of traffic. The locals could sense danger and perhaps the military was blocking traffic. He shifted nervously in his seat as the minutes ticked away and the anticipation of the aftermath of the ambush took over his mind.

"Windows up," Bob called out as they neared the curve. Maggie shot a wondering look at him not wanting to be trapped inside a glassed in vehicle if they were shot at. "Don't worry, Annie Oakley, nothing can penetrate these windows. Now, slow down, Carter."

The lingering smoke from the Rover hit them like a sheet on a clothesline as they made the curve. Carter crawled the SUV inches at a time into the scene. There was no sign of life. None whatsoever. The soldiers jumped out of the back first walking beside the rolling SUV, their guns skillfully pointed away from the vehicle as they searched for indications of hostility. Taking a wide berth around the Rover, the soldiers signaled Carter to stop just in back of the bus. Othiamba joined the other two soldiers as the area was searched leaving Carter, Maggie and Bob in the SUV, all three keeping their thoughts to themselves. When they got the all clear, they too got out.

The silence was unnerving.

Chilling.

The only thing they could hear as they slowly milled around was the crunch of the debris between their feet and the road surface, and the occasional whoosh of the wind as it whipped through the trees. Even the normal chatter of the birds and calls of the wildlife were unusually absent. Carter stayed close behind Maggie as she and Bob took cues from each other without speaking, taking turns peeking around corners and covering each other's back. Othiamba was the first to board the bus and quickly motioned for help. Carter feared the worst.

As Othiamba covered the open bus door, Carter stepped up inside finding a seriously wounded Sera sitting slumped over in the driver's seat. She was alive but suffered a gunshot wound to the shoulder and at least two stab wounds that he could see.

"Sera, it's Dr. Carter. Where are the children? Hmm? Where's Dr. Luka?"

"Children," she mumbled incoherently, her eyes still closed, her hand held tightly over a laceration on her neck.

"What's up?" Bob asked from the door.

"GSW to the shoulder, stab wounds - one to the neck, but no major arteries. There's really not much I can do for her here." Carter took out an IV bag of Ringer's Lactate and quickly got a vein on her arm. He packed off her wounds and took her blood pressure. Not great, but not critical - yet. Other than Sera, the bus was completely empty. Carter did what he could as he nervously looked around.

"**_Down_**," one of the soldiers yelled. "**GET DOWN**!"

At first, Carter thought they meant him prompting him to duck as he exited the bus. Then he saw the soldiers pointing their guns in the distance at someone walking down the middle of the road. The soldiers rushed the man who followed orders and got to his knees, his hands behind his head, but it was only moments before Othiamba pulled the man back up to his feet and guided him back to the bus.

Luka was safe. Bloody, bruised, shaken - but safe. Sitting on the ground against the wheel of the bus, he took a deep breath before gathering his thoughts. Carter tended to the cuts on his head and face while grilling him for answers.

"Where were you?"

"In a truck."

"Are the children behind you? Todd? Paulette? What happened?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know what happened?"

"**_I don't know where the children are_**," he retorted with frustration batting Carter's hand out of the way. "They stopped me, took everything from the Land Rover then set it on fire. The chopper came, then they threw me in a truck and left. I didn't see anything. Next thing I know I heard a satellite phone ring, they talked, then threw me out the door." He put his head against his knees trying to abate the ache creeping up in it. "Nobody's here?"

"Sera. Maggie's with her."

Luka's heart skipped a beat. "She's….?"

"She's alive. But we're going to have to get her to Gulu as soon as more help gets here." Carter told him with a steady voice. "You too."

"No."

Before Carter could argue further, a rustle in the bushes at the far end of the adjacent open field caught the soldiers' attention.

"Everybody behind the bus," Bob ordered.

Maggie pulled the gun she had slung over her shoulder around front. "I'm not leaving Sera."

Bob knew better than to argue. She had a gun, after all, _and _she knew how to use it. "All right. You've driven a Soviet tank. I haven't."

All of the guns were trained on the slow, meticulous movements coming from the brush. As it came closer, the breathing grew heavier and guns steadier. It was too quiet and Carter held his back tightly against the metal side of the bus feeling as though he would get it from all sides.

"No," Othiamba yelled, "guns down. It's okay."

When Carter got to his feet and forced himself to look in the direction of the previous offending movement, he saw only a small figure as it walked slowly and carefully towards the group. Carter, too, moved towards the figure as it picked up speed.

Little Joseph plowed into Carter's arms sobbing uncontrollably, the English he had mastered so well now laying dormant inside his terror. As tight as the boy's arms and legs were around Carter, the trembling originating deep within still reached out and brought yet another level of fear to the doctor.

As the soldiers, then Bob came from around the bus, they were treated to the part of Joseph's fear that Carter knew only by sound as the boys' head remained pasted into his shoulder and neck - his agonizingly tormented face. Luka came up from behind and gently put his hand on Joseph's tear soaked cheek searching through the large empty eyes for the happy strong boy he had left at the camp earlier. Although Toomay had been careful to filter the details of his father's murder, Luka and Carter both knew that at that very moment the child was putting things together in his own mind and forming a picture in his head of his father's last breaths.

Innocence lost.

Very slowly, other children appeared through the foliage and ran to the adults, some holding each others hands, others with arms outstretched as they looked to be held and comforted. Even surly Bob had one child in his arms and another clinging to his leg. It wasn't until the exodus had waned that Carter and Luka noticed the obvious missing: Mbuto, Todd and Paulette.

Carter carefully pulled Joseph's arms and legs free and put him back on to his own two feet then squatted down to talk to him.

"Are there more?"

Joseph's face froze, his chin trembling as he looked hauntingly into Carter's eyes.

"Joseph, where are the others?"

His mouth opened and the very first word stuck on his lips, the frustration and fright relegating him to a mute.

"Show us where," Luka softly told the boy.

Joseph's little finger pointed straight back to the tree line, far from where they were standing.

"Son," Bob stepped up, "are there any bad men back there?"

He shook his head and Luka and Carter took off toward the trees, their adrenalin surging. There against the very first tree, almost blending in with the bark, was Mbuto standing stiffly, eyes closed, his breath obviously held back for fear of giving away his location. He'd done this before.

"_Mbuto_," Luka called out as he neared him.

Mbuto's eyes flew open and when he focused them on the doctors his soldiered face relaxed, his eyes welled with tears and his mouth opened with a wail only a child could make for his mother. Luka knelt down and tenderly wrapped his arms around the boy drawing him into a loving and protective embrace. These littlest victims of war could no longer be sheltered from reality. They were now a part of it. And for Mbuto who had escaped the horrors of the Congo physically unscathed and emotionally wooden, he was now forever changed.

Innocence lost.

Carter stayed back, giving Luka and Mbuto that moment alone. Time for Mbuto to bring to the surface that which had been suppressed probably since infancy. Time for Luka to do what a father knows how to do.

But as Carter's eyes adjusted to the darkness a cloud provided as it momentarily covered the sun, he saw something behind Mbuto's tree that called for his attention and he walked gingerly around Luka to get there.

A familiar smell was picked up by the breeze and delivered to Carter. He knew what it was. He knew what was coming. It was unmistakable and he wrinkled his nose as he took another breath anticipating that burnt metallic odor. To the lay person it probably wouldn't be noticeable, but for doctors who dealt with it daily, it was as common as the smell of roses to a florist.

He saw the feet first - two pair of feet, and as he stepped around the arms of a large bush he saw who they belonged to.

It was Paulette he saw first as she sat against the tree in a pose of defeated surrender, her dress half ripped from her chest exposing only a blood covered breast. Her face had the look of sadness - profound sadness - as she slowly looked up at Carter. He almost couldn't bring himself to follow the path of her eyes back down to her lap but was guided out of a sense of responsibility… no, compassion.

He laid in her lap, head cradled in the crook of her arm. At first Carter thought, or hoped, that there was life behind the opened eyes, but as he looked past them to his mouth, the last agonal breaths of death gurgling through a gush of blood, he knew that there was nothing he could do for Todd.

When Bob got there he stepped into the scene past a frozen Carter who suddenly felt years of helplessness wash over him. For every ten great saves in the ER, he lost one, and the feeling of not being able to help that one soul in front of him was one more check mark on his guilt meter.

Bob gently moved Paulette's hand from the hole in Todd's chest. She had tried. She had tried to save him. Turning him over, he compared the wound to Todd's chest.

"He was shot in the back."

"What…? Why would…?" Carter stumbled as he tried to put the unknown events together in his head.

"When the rebels started shooting at the helicopter, Todd told us to run," Paulette explained while still holding onto Todd. Her tired, gentle voice didn't match the words as she told of the events by rote. "He told us to run. He made sure all the children were ahead of him and he tried to get Sera to go too, but she said she wouldn't have been able to keep up. He was the last one to run."

So focused on what they were doing, they hadn't notice the influx of Ugandan government soldiers until a cluster of helicopters flew over and landed on the other side of the road. Help had arrived. Some of the soldiers brought a litter over into the trees and, as they picked up Todd's body, Paulette stood and walked beside him with no thought to his blood covering her body or her uncovered breast. She still held his hand.

As the soldiers maneuvered through the bushes and over the roots, Todd's cell phone dropped from his pocket onto the ground. Without thinking twice, Carter leaned over to pick it up, but before he could touch it, it rang, causing Carter to close his hand into a fist and pull back. Todd's phone was ringing.

"He gets cell calls?" Bob asked Luka with quiet suspicion.

Carter finally reached out and picked it up, opened the cover for a brief few seconds, then closed it again. The woman's world would fall apart soon enough, he thought. There was no harm in giving her a few more hours of comfort.

"Carter?" Bob wondered as the doctor brushed by him.

"It's his mother. She doesn't hear Todd's end. Just wants him to answer it."

The children were loaded into two matatous for their trip back to the camp. Luka lingered with Mbuto in his arms as Maggie situated Sera in an ambulance.

"I have to take Sera to the hospital," he told him as they connected foreheads. "Othiamba and Dr. Carter will take care of you. And Toomay and your friends will be waiting for you back at camp. I'm sure I'll be back tonight or tomorrow."

"Mbuto does not want you to die also," the boy told him in the third person.

"I won't. And even though I have some scratches I'm not hurt now." Luka's smile, as soft and fatherly as it was, still left Mbuto an unbeliever as his small hands cradled Luka's face. "Here, let me show you." Luka dug deep into his pant's pocket and held something out for Mbuto. "See? I have your good luck coin. I'm still waiting to find someone to pass it on to. Someone who does a good deed."

Mbuto touched the coin with his fingers before folding Luka's hand around it once again and wrapping his arms around his neck in a tight embrace. He whispered softly into Luka's neck. "I did not have one for Todd." One last tear fell. Luka was glad that Mbuto could not see that he, the older strong one charged to provide comfort and safety, was the one who shed it, the one who was innocently comforted by the child himself.

Where a bus and small Land Rover left earlier in the day, a caravan of vehicles returned through the camp gate as nightfall approached and the sun's bright orange hue bled onto the thickening clouds overhead.

The children exited the white vans into the arms of their parents and loved ones. The last in camp was an open military Jeep, Carter behind the wheel, Todd wrapped in a tarp on a litter across the back, and Paulette sitting in the passenger seat, the blood now dried to a reddish-brown. Her eyes empty and hard. Tolo, who had stayed behind, was the first to reach her sister, then Toomay and Joseph. Toomay had lost the first love of her life, now she was watching her daughter lose hers. The Bisango family wrapped their arms around each other and left for their quarters to start the healing - or rather, continue it.

Othiamba and Carter carried Todd into the clinic and placed him at the far end on a surgery table just outside the office door. Sean and Colleen rose from their seats and looked through the glass wondering if the body was…

"Luka?" Sean asked stepping out of the office, the apprehensive red-head behind him.

Carter shook his head. "Todd." He stood, hands in his pockets, staring down at the covered body. He'd come so far. So much promise. So much life. And maybe even young love.

"What about Luka?" Colleen asked.

"He, um…" Carter had to collect himself, "… he went with Maggie into Gulu. Sera was injured. She'll be okay. Bob said he'd get them back here."

"How… ?" Sean quietly asked.

"Shot in the back while saving the children." Carter chuckled, his exhausted face barely moving. "Here he was worried about facing adversity."

In the office, he sat down in a chair and stared blankly at his feet. Even Norman sat at his desk subdued and lost in thought. "What's that?" Carter asked Sean. The music was almost a monotone. A child's voice, then a choir. Haunting. A reverential choral chant flowing in a foreign language.

"I'm sorry, I'll turn it off."

Carter stopped him before Sean could make it to the CD player. "No, don't." He listened some more. It was eerily comforting yet evocative. "What is it?"

"Celtic. Like a hymn I guess." An Irish low whistle provided a melancholy background. "_Bim ar thoir an comhartha. Scaoileas m'anam saor."_ Sean closed his eyes and sang the song by rote, the words obviously close to his heart.  
_  
(A few lines of Song Lyric for Sigma by __Rolf Lovland and David Agnew, sung by Secret Garden, previously properly attributed, deleted 5/3/05 as per new regulation by site adminstration. The author elected to keep just a few as the characters are quoting them in context.)_

"Do you know the translation?" Carter asked.

Sean first recited the song in his native Celtic language, then gave the translation. "I search for the sign that will set my soul free. My heart must be pure so that I can find peace."

"Kind of prophetic." Carter closed his eyes letting the music take him over. He never really let music affect him like that, but when the next track started with the acapella voices singing in almost a spirit of lullabye of angels, warms arms and dark nights, he was so moved he had to leave the office before the last verse and search out someplace to hide in private.

_(A few lines of Song Lyric for Prayer byFionnuala Sherry and Rolf Lovland, sung by Secret Garden, previously properly attributed, deleted 5/3/05 as per new regulation by site adminstration. PC2 can be read in its original text at LUKAFIC.)_

Sera was recognized by the staff at the Gulu hospital. She had worked in camps most of her life, not taking a salary, only room and board. Maggie borrowed a treatment room and cleaned Luka's cuts and scrapes.

"Got quite a goose egg up there," Maggie said pointing to the side of his head.

"Yeah, well, I made out pretty good, considering." They shared little, but unlike the rocky road they took when they first met, it wasn't uncomfortable.

They waited around for Sera to get out of surgery and met the surgeon in the emergency room. She'd be okay, but would spend a week or so hospitalized before returning to her family in Jinja on Lake Victoria. They thanked the doctors and nurses before looking for Bob who had promised to meet them.

"You were probably expecting Dr. Carter," Luka offered to the staff, "but I'm glad we finally got to meet you."

"Oh, we haven't seen Dr. Carter in quite a while," the director told them. "He fulfilled his commitment long ago."

_(Lyrics Deleted)_


	19. Chapter 19 Prostitutions in the Soul

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Nineteen**

He regretted having left the air conditioned office. Well, almost. It was just so hot. So damn hot. Carter's choice was to sit in that office and listen to Sean's melancholy Irish music with Norman staring at him, not to mention the reminder of Todd's body parked at the window, or go to his room and feel sorry for himself. He chose the latter. Feeling sorry for oneself is an individual sport with liberal rules and only self imposed penalties. Something John Truman Carter excels at.

Although the walls were thin, the doors were very heavy, the bedrooms once probably having been used for sensitive military storage of some type when the camp was an airfield. And when the situation called for an exclamation point of a door slam, they rocked.

_**BAM!**_

His anger overflowed as he replayed everything that had gone wrong since he fell from the tree, and slamming the door released a little of it giving him a measure of relief. He was so self absorbed at that moment he didn't see Colleen standing on the other side of his bed until he pushed a box of journals across the room with his foot.

"I'm sorry," he said with a shaky voice as he cleared his throat, "I didn't see you there. Can I help you with something?"

"Well, actually I came in here to see if you were alright." She came back around to stand in front of Carter. "Sounds like it was kind of rough out there."

He simply nodded his head, his hands on his hips. "I'm sure you've seen worse."

"There's always worse." Putting a hand on his arm she tipped her head and looked up into his drawn down eyes. "You sure you're okay, John?"

Again he nodded his head, but this time with a tear escaping, dropping to his feet as he closed his eyes in defeat. His pent up emotions hadn't planned on company and were lagging behind the façade Carter was so good at putting up.

"Hey," she slipped her arms around his chest and drew him into a nice warm hug, "there was no way to know."

At first surprised by her sympathy, he took his hands off his hips not sure whether he should reciprocate, but soon found himself drawn to the closeness he so craved and wrapped his own arms around her, resting his weary head on her soft mop of red curls. It was just a hug. He was so tired. So run down and emotionally spent.

"I'm glad you're okay," she said as she gently stroked the small of his back. "When you're real tired you get this little welt under your right eye right, here." Colleen's finger stroking his cheek gave him a little shiver and he closed his eyes involuntarily. "It's kind of cute." A low steady rumble of thunder in the distance opened Carter's eyes.

Her body was so warm against his. Not warm from the heat. More like inner warmth, the kind one misses when they haven't been close to someone in a long time. Her soft breasts, curved hips, sweet smelling hair - all making it hard for Carter to make this anything other than a friendly hug, and all things he lusted after her for when she initially arrived. Things he had been ignoring by design. Things he was too drained to ignore now.

He pushed her away so that he could see her face. Maybe this was all in his head. Maybe there was some delirium going on. But as he looked down into her dark eyes and felt her hands as they reached up inside his shirt, there was no mistake about it. He tried to say something, anything, but by the time words had finally traveled to his mouth from his brain, Colleen's lips were upon them, sucking them in and away from rational thought.

Her fingers left trails of tingling sensations as they slowly and methodically made their way from his waist to his shoulders. There was static energy in the air from the lightening as it crept into the PCRC and seemed to add to the whole surreal coupling. Carter's t-shirt came up and off easily with no effort from him, their lips barely breaking away as the fabric swept over them. Colleen evened out the playing field by unbuttoning her shirt and removing it, all while Carter allowed her to continue ravaging his face and neck with her warm supple lips, concentrating on the pulse points and languishing there. His heart hadn't raced like that since… since… the chopper went out of control. His adrenalin, among other hormones, was equally out of control and Colleen, it seemed, was the pilot. Not that he was being taken against his will by any means. This was no hijacking, though the flight plan was a mystery. His head told him one thing, but his body… oh, his body was definitely telling him something else.

He drank in the moment feeling so comforted and needed. It was like a drug. A beautiful, energizing controlled high that he didn't ever want to come down from. Carter could feel his muscles relax one by one - an incredible release of tension and build up of euphoria. As his hands headed north to take a breast in each hand, hers traveled south tracing the outline of his rock hard erection through his pants, pausing as she reached the sensitive underside of the tip and gently but firmly pressing on it before starting over again.

Carter was in no hurry to remove Colleen's bra. He loved the feel of her erect nipples and prominent areolas as they teased him through the lace. Each hand was full and graciously accepted what runneth over as he stroked around the globes in circles and let the lace tickle his chest as Colleen moaned and swayed into him just slightly.

She pulled him to the bed walking backwards until he fell forward pinning her on her back. _It was all or nothing_, Carter thought. They literally groped at each other, breaths hot and heavy, hands frantically pulling at clothing that got in the way of skin. It was pure raw energy that drove the act forward. Raw. _All or nothing_. Still half clothed, Carter rocked his pelvis against the folds of her pants, her knees restraining his hips in a passionate grip. Their mouths were on fire, neither one modest about the moans escaping the flames.

_All or…_

"I can't do this," he blurted out. He couldn't believe he was saying this. They were nearly naked, bodies pasted together in the heat of lust, and all he could think about was… "Luka. It's not fair to …"

"Not fair to Luka?" Colleen put her elbows on the bed behind her to raise herself up to meet Carter and hopefully entice him back into action again. "We're adults here. Luka knows that what we have isn't a commitment. When I first got here you were the one that caught my eye. Don't tell me you've forgotten that." She put a hand behind Carter's head and drew him back into a lovely kiss and as he put his hands back down on each side of her face it seemed to seal the deal.

Again his body fell under her spell melting on top of her. Colleen moved her hips back and forth taking advantage of his hardness through the material. As Carter reached down to release his cock from its confinement his hand brushed over a hard object inside Colleen's pants pocket. He knew well what the object was and stealthily pulled it out.

"What's this?" he asked as Colleen was unzipping his pants and doing a little pulling out of her own. "**_Stop_**," he demanded as he managed to get off of her and sit on the bed. "What the hell are you doing with a vial of Demerol?"

"Does it really matter?" Colleen sat up next to him and began to gnaw on his neck in earnest while grabbing his hardness and stroking it. "It's a clinic, sweetie. That stuff is all over the place."

"No." Carter suddenly stood up leaving Colleen to nearly fall over on the bed. "No, this stuff is not _all over the place_. It's carefully stored, inventoried and logged out. Anything not logged out certainly hasn't been misplaced." Carter stuffed what was left of his erection back in his pants and zipped back up.

"That's it?" she tersely asked from the bed. "Are you turning me down? This has all been a waste? You've got to be kidding me."

The gears in Carter's head suddenly started to turn as he put two and two together. "_You've _been taking the drugs and supplies. This is what I saw you give to the Mai-Mai at the border?" Colleen stood and put her shirt back on ignoring Carter's questioning. "And you've let **ME **take the fall for it?"

Taking the vial from Carter's lax hand, Colleen gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Well, I guess I'd better get this back where it belongs. Can't have these things laying around."

She was out the door in no time leaving Carter in the middle of the room, alone and very methodically going back in his head to the days that inventory was off. Pulling a wadded up button down shirt from the laundry pile he raced out the door looking for the red head, nearly taking out Sean as he went out the back of the hanger.

"Hey, hey John. Just hold on," Sean called after him as he turned in circles in search of someone.

Carter still had the shirt in his hand, his belt undone. The stagnant humid air from the impending storm pushed heavily against his exposed chest inviting the thick congregant of evening bugs to a fine meal.

"You'd better get that shirt on before the bugs eat you up. Who ya lookin' fer?"

Carter ignored him as the heavy raindrops started falling and turned around to go back into the building. He was furious, blocking out everything around him as he looked in rooms and behind curtains. Finally he came around the corner and blindly stepped right into the area that had been set up for Todd.

"I'm… I'm sorry," he told a surprised Toomay who sat with her children next to Todd's body. Carter was quick to put his shirt on and fix his pants. Paulette sat in the only chair while her family stood around her.

"My sister wants his mom and dad to have this," Joseph told Carter holding out the shiny gold stethoscope.

"Oh, no Paulette," Carter took it back over to her and kneeled down in front of her, "he'd want you to have it, really."

"But it was a gift to him from his father."

"A gift that his father wanted put to good use." Carter put the stethoscope in her hand and lovingly wrapped his own hands around hers. "Todd's father is a doctor and he worked in refugee camps just like this a long time ago. He knows how essential that stethoscope is for camp workers." Her head hung down as more tears flooded her eyes. "It made Todd very happy to give it to you. Please keep it."

"I agree," Sean said as he stepped in and spoke quietly to Carter behind his ear. "Bob's bringing Luka and Maggie back at first light, then a chopper is coming in with a State Department representative to get Todd's body. Bob and I will accompany him back to Kampala where his parents will be meeting us tomorrow night. I'd appreciate it, John, if maybe you could write a little something for his parents."

Carter nodded and gave Paulette a hug before returning to his room. At least he'd have something to do to keep his mind off Colleen… and Luka.

_**

* * *

The desire for success lubricates secret prostitutions of the soul.** -Norman Mailer 1923-, American Author

* * *

_

He nuzzled his face into her sweet smelling hair and spooned into her backside. Luka had slept a bit in Gulu and nodded off in Bob's car but he was far from caught up on his sleep.

"Hey, you're all wet," came a sleepy mumble.

"Be glad I took a shower first." He kissed the back of her neck before settling in for a short nap. "What are your plans today?"

"I have an assignment. I won't be back for a few days at least."

Luka didn't like that this convenient relationship was now meaning a whole lot more to him, and he certainly didn't like worrying about Colleen while she was working. "Where?'

"You know I don't talk about my work with you."

"What more can you do in Uganda?" Luka's arm pulled her tightly into his chest as he planted a kiss behind her ear.

"I cover all of Africa, not just here."

There was a long pause as Luka tried not to be cynical, but, "You going next door to the Congo?"

"Luka, don't ask questions you know you won't like the answer to."

It was like the words came out of his mouth despite his best effort to keep them locked away. "Please, it's so dangerous over there."

"Oh _fuck_, Luka," she sighed as she turned on her back so as to see his face, "it's dangerous in New York too."

Luka mindlessly played with a lock of her hair while looking in her eyes. "I know. It's just that… I don't want anything to happen to you…"

"_Shit_." Colleen stood up and walked over to the window. "Why does it always end up like this?" she seemingly asked of no one. "Look I was holed up in the Al-Rasheed hotel in Baghdad in '91 while the city was getting bombed all around me. I made a tent from two mattresses on the balcony so I wouldn't miss a good picture. I've ridden camels with Bedouin tribesmen in Jordan, walked Palestinian workers across the line in Israel, covered both sides of a Los Angeles gang war, and was the only female embed in the Afghanistan war two years ago."

"There weren't embedded reporters in that war," he corrected her.

"None that _you _knew of."

"Still, there are just some things going on there that I think I know a little bit more about than you. And those things are just better left alone."

"Are you censoring me?" she asked him with a stern pout.

"_No_. Of course not." That was about all the nap he'd be getting. "I'm sorry, Colleen. I guess I'm letting things get to me. Come here."

As the sounds of the clinic coming to life filtered through the door and bright morning sun painted the wall behind them a sharp yellow, Colleen returned to the bed and gave Luka a proper greeting.

He'd been placed in a body bag, the bloodied tarp long since disposed of. It seemed so cold, institutional. Carter put his hand on top of the black plastic searching for Todd's chest, where his heart should be… where it had once been beating. A box was now on the chair where he had last seen Paulette. It wasn't Todd's personal affects, rather it held a variety of items camp works had placed in there as they came throughout the night to pay their respects. A deck of cards from Buzby, a Georgetown Hoyas shirt from Danny who joked unsuccessfully with Todd about their schools' rivalry, two deflated birthday balloons, a Polaroid picture of Todd with the kids and one small piece of artwork from Mbuto brilliantly colored with crayons showing Todd telling the kids a story. Carter's envelope addressed to _Dr. and Mrs. Casey _suddenly felt quite impersonal.

"That the letter?" Sean asked stepping out of the office. Carter nodded. "What did you say?"

"That he was strong. That he was instrumental in saving the lives of the children as well as me." Carter paused as he placed the envelope in the box along side the other trinkets. "And that…," he gently touched Mbuto's picture feeling the texture of the crayon strokes under his fingertips, "…and that he was a bright star." His voice cracked as he put his hands in his pockets and continued to stare down at the lifeless form inside the body bag.

"Thanks for doing that." They stood before Todd in silence for a couple minutes before Sean opened the office door. "I'll be leaving soon with Todd, but we need to have a staff meeting first."

As Carter stepped inside the door he scanned the room. Sean, Luka, Maggie, Norman and one other person graced him with their presence. "I didn't realize Colleen was part of the staff," he said dryly.

"I asked her to be here," Luka spoke up.

"John," Sean began, "we've asked you here to talk to you about your drug problem."

"My drug problem?" Carter took a seat on the desk in front of Norman. "Okay." He thought he'd humor them.

"Aye. You see we're concerned about you. Your lack of attention here at camp. Irritability, moodiness, sleeplessness, inconsistent work habits."

"I think you left off dilated pupils, diarrhea, vomiting, low blood pressure, and dehydration." Carter was laid back enjoying the show and now contributed to it.

"This isn't a joke," Luka gave from his spot next to the door.

"Oh, I know. I've done this before." Carter may have been sarcastic, but he wasn't taking it lightly. "You see Luka, in an intervention you'd have to move to your right a little, get in _front _of the door. And Maggie, sitting down is just so indirect. Stand up and show me who's boss." He stopped lest his sarcasm be interpreted as lack of lucidity. "Sean, we've all been irritable and moody. Certainly Luka and I have both confronted things here that we're dealing with in our own ways."

"But with drugs?" Maggie asked in almost a deceived voice.

"No. Not with drugs."

"Carter, we were at the Gulu hospital last night with Sera." Luka's arms were crossed in front of him trying to maintain a very business-like attitude. "The staff said you haven't been there in a very long time."

"That's right. I haven't."

Maggie finally got up from her seat. "Then where have you been? You told us you'd been going to the hospital there."

"No, I told you I was going into Gulu. I can't believe this. You know, I can understand people who don't know me thinking the worst. But you and Luka?"

"Colleen found this vial of Demerol in your room last night." Luka pulled the vial out of his pocket.

"Is that what she told you?" Carter got right into Colleen's face. "Does she tell you _everything_, Luka? 'Cause I think she left something out."

The atmosphere was heavy inside the office as all eyes were on Carter and Colleen, the tension finally broken by the sound of a car horn.

"I have to go. That's my ride." As Colleen gave Luka a kiss on the lips, she didn't miss the chance to avert her eyes away from Luka's closed lids and stab Carter with her evil gaze.

"Mr. Tyson," Sean asked, "would you mind helping Colleen to the car and give us some time?"

Carter knew it was an excuse. Colleen traveled light and didn't really need a bellboy.

Luka waited until the door closed behind Norman. "Carter, I know this is hard to admit…"

"Hard to admit what? That you're wrong?"

"Look John," Maggie said softly as she moved closer to her friend, "everything points to you."

"I'm sure it does. But you're not thinking logically. You see me after some rough times and immediately assume that I'm shooting up." Sean, Maggie and Luka remained quiet as they let Carter speak. "I fell from that tree and got banged up pretty good. Yes, the pain killers I got triggered something in me that I had to deal with. But I dealt with it. I went to the Congo and met up with some rebels. Luka you can't tell me that wouldn't make you a little wacko. Then it's bad enough you chew me out when I get back but I also get that Romano guy shoved in my face. You know Luka, the one who strung me up by my arms in the African sun and whipped me nearly to death." Maggie hadn't heard the details, at least not in specifics and cringed. "Todd and the bus… _God_, need I say more?" Looking directly at Luka, Carter couldn't resist. "Then there was last night."

"What about last night?" Luka asked.

"John, if you haven't been going to the Gulu hospital, then where have you been?" Sean asked.

"All the signs of drug dependency and withdrawal Luka and Maggie have mentioned, they left one out. And that's craving. **_Craving_**." It was a struggle but Carter was determined to keep his cool as best he could. "You see Sean, drug craving is the result of the drug's imprinting in the memory the euphoric effect, something that never goes away with recovery, at least not totally. And when it comes back triggered by a sudden large dose of opiate based narcotics, it's a real monkey on the back to get rid of. I haven't been at the hospital. Remember Mrs. Wiant, the patient with ITP? Her husband is still here. He's running an NA program out of his church in Gulu. I went every single day, first as an attendee, then as a doctor."

"Why didn't you tell us."

"You think Norman would have kept the camp open if he'd known? Would you let me continue working as a doctor here, Luka? And Maggie, would everything have been the same between us? And you have to admit, with your assumptions made early on and going behind my back, you would never have believed me. Sort of like now."

"We weren't going behind your back," Sean explained. "We didn't send Colleen to your room to snoop."

"Oh, I know that." He tilted his head and looked at Luka's face momentarily. "What was her explanation for her being in my room? Huh?"

Palpable silence filled the room as the occupants shrugged their shoulders.

"You see, there's more to our Miss Reilly than you know. I don't think anything she does or says is an accident or a coincidence."

Luka's eyes squinted slightly as his blood began to boil. "What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean by that is that she's been playing _all _of us. You most of all, Luka. And she has one _hell _of a poker face."

With that, Luka pushed away from the wall he had been leaning against and made what small space existed between him and Carter virtually disappear. "I don't think I've seen this side of you, Carter. What are you getting at?"

"Look, she had the motive to steal the drugs and supplies and she certainly had the opportunity." Carter tried to keep the discussion level and less emotional, especially with Luka breathing down his neck. "Certainly more than me. You said yourself I was never here."

"She's not using drugs," Luka threw back at him.

"No, but she is trading them."

Luka laughed out loud at that. "What the hell for? She is a prize winning journalist."

"Ask Bob. Even he told us that she gets the stories she wants any way she can. How did you think we gained access into the Congo? I saw her take things out of her bag and hand them over to the rebels. Hell, I didn't even know that's where she was taking me. Think back, Luka. You inventoried the supplies daily. Did they ever go missing while Colleen was away?"

Sean and Maggie were looking at Luka as Carter's very coherent and logical explanation was beginning to make sense to them.

"The ambush was certainly set up," Carter continued. "Colleen was more upset that you and I traded places that day than the fact that I was almost killed in the chopper crash or that the children were still in danger. They didn't take the children or women, just you, and then suddenly your captors get a phone call and let you go?"

"She did ask to use my satellite phone after you'd left," Sean reluctantly told Carter. The shift in the dynamics of the conversation were not so subtle any more.

"The Demerol was in _your _room, Carter. Not hers." Now Luka was on the defensive.

"That's her story. Did she tell you _why _she was in my room?" Carter asked again very deliberately. "Did she?"

"It doesn't matter why she was there."

"The vial was in _her _pocket," Carter finally told him out of frustration. "I found it in _her _pants pocket." He hadn't planned on sticking that particular knife in Luka's back.

Luka grabbed Carter's shirt with both hands and walked him across the room before shoving him into a row of metal file cabinets. "Really? Why were you in her pockets? How's that for a question. **_What were you doing in her pants?_**"

Carter didn't answer him and instead closed his eyes for a moment not wanting to give Luka any more reason to believe the seeds Colleen had obviously planted in his head. Luka's fists were hard and held Carter's shirt tightly together at the base of his neck. When Carter opened his eyes again he connected with Luka's just inches away, and they were not very affable.

"Luka?" Carter reached up and gently laid his hands on Luka's arms hoping to be able to convince him to let go of him. "Luka, she was in my room when I went in there. We talked." Luka widened his eyes and turned his head slightly as if to say 'more'. "It doesn't matter how I know the Demerol was there, it just was."

Luka gave him one more slight shove into the cabinets. He knew. It was obvious to Carter.

"It didn't get that far. I couldn't. Once I found the vial…"

"You mean by the time your hand made it into her pants." Luka let go of Carter and stepped back, not liking what he had heard. But more importantly what it had done to him. "Carter, If you don't want our help that's fine. But don't go putting the blame on someone who isn't even here to defend herself."

"Luka please, I don't need help. At least not this kind of help," he said trying to calm the waters. Carter smoothed his shirt over his chest and sat at the desk. "I'm sorry. I didn't want this"

"She has a daughter back home who thinks the world of her." Luka turned his back on the group and focused on the helicopter landing outside. "She worked hard to climb her way out of her parents' shit hole to get to where she is today. She wouldn't do this. What could she possibly gain?"

"Love maybe? Approval?" Maggie was thinking out loud, but regretted it, especially after Luka shot her a sharp look and stormed out. "Well, that went well, huh?"

Bob opened the office door and stuck his head in. "Sean, State Department suit is here. Let's go." Soldiers were taking Todd's body out of the clinic and to the chopper by the time Sean, Maggie and Carter got outside.

"Do me a favor Sean," Carter asked, "Don't say anything to Bob yet. Not until we know for sure. I have a feeling there's more to this."

Having been without most of the doctors the previous few days, the clinic was on overdrive with patients lined up out the door. Luckily Sean was able to snag a few doctors rotating through the country on their way to another Alliance program in Rwanda. The PCRC had gained a reputation as a decent stop off for volunteers and the staff enjoyed the change.

After assisting in two surgeries and tending to a birth, Carter hit the sack and put in a few good hours. By the time he woke up he had already missed dinner and the almost full moon glowed outside his window. He decided to search out Luka and talk to him. At least with him having the day off, Carter didn't have to worry about dealing with him in the clinic that day.

"_Son of a bitch_."

Looking down the back hallway of the hanger he didn't see whose voice matched the crash that went with it.

"_Mother f…."_

"Maggie?" Carter peeked around Luka's door to find Maggie sitting on the floor nursing her toe. "What are you doing in here? Where's Luka?"

"Damn chair. I haven't seen him since this morning."

"Uh-huh. And you are in his room going through his things because…?"

"Because I'm mopping his tile hoping he'll wax the floor with me next. What the hell do you think I'm doing?"

"I don't know, but that's not Luka's bag."

"Duh. No kidding again." Maggie was rifling through the bag like an overzealous airport inspector.

"You think you should be going through Colleen's things?"

"You think you should have been playing _Hide the Wiener _with her last night?" When she thought she had pulled all of the items from the bag, she turned it upside down and gave it a good shake.

"Hey, what's this?" Carter was turning over a small electronic device. "Is this a…?"

"Oh man. A GPS." Maggie took it from Carter and turned it over inspecting it. "Just like that one we found on the one armed guy. She told Luka and me that she didn't know what one was. Hell, it's even the same kind." They sat on the floor looking at each other, thinking the same thing. They both started looking at her things in earnest.

"Not much here. Some scraps of paper," Maggie declared.

Carter sat back against the bed fixed on one previously wadded up piece of paper in his hand.

"What's that?" She looked over his shoulder and tried to read the scribble.

_**2P**_

_**K/P rd 2 G**_

_**White LR**_

"What the hell is that?"

"It's my death sentence." Carter swallowed hard. "Two o'clock in the afternoon, the Karuma Pakwach Road to Gulu, white Land Rover. She was there when Sean made the plans for me to take the supplies to the satellite clinic."

"Holy shit. You were right. She meant for you…" Maggie pointed to the other side. "What about that hen scratch?"

Carter turned it over and looked at the numbers. "Coordinates. Longitude and Latitude." He may have been puzzled at first, but not when he looked at the GPS. "You said Romano had one of these?" Maggie nodded.

A pile of papers fell off the bed revealing a shiny eight by ten black and white photograph. As Carter leaned over to pick it up, he stopped short.

"Carter?" Maggie didn't make the connection. "Carter, you're real pale, you know that?"

"Uh-huh." He picked up the photo with his trembling hand and together with the note and GPS ran out the door.

"_Carter_," Maggie yelled on his heels.

"Where's Luka?" He frantically asked staff members as he sped by, "Dr. Luka, where is he?" Nobody knew. "Mr. Tyson - Norman - have you seen Dr. Kovac?"

"I saw him leave camp this morning. I understand he had the day off."

"It's very important that we know where he went, please Mr. Tyson," Maggie asked… nicely even.

"I don't know. He only inquired as to my conversation with Ms. Reilly after the meeting."

"And?"

"And I told him what she told me. That she was off to do an investigative story on that one armed rebel that came in here."

"Maggie," Carter almost pleaded, "I have to find him."

_(A few lines of Song Lyric for Lost Mindby Percy Mayfield, sung by Diana Krall, previously properly attributed, deleted 5/3/05 as per new regulation by site adminstration. PC2 can be read in its original text at LUKAFIC.)_


	20. Chapter 20 Aristophenes 385 BC

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
**_by Sharon R._

_**Chapter Twenty**_

MONDAY

"Maggie," Carter almost pleaded, "I have to find him."

Carter stood there with the picture, GPS and scribbled note in his hand looking around frantically as he tried to figure out where to start his search for Luka. _He left camp this morning_ - that's what Norman had said. _Left camp this morning_.

"What?" Maggie had figured out that Colleen had been using them, but Carter's sudden need to get to Luka was puzzling. "What the hell is wrong? Is he in trouble?"

"Um, yeah, it's very possible." _I told him what she told me. That she was off to do an investigative story on that one armed rebel. _

"But Carter… John, he's not stupid. He's not going to go run into danger on purpose."

"No. He's not. But if he's going where I think he is, he's falling right into a trap." Carter raked his hair back with his hands. He and Luka had both let their hair go and the sweat and humidity pasted the tips of the long strands over his ears and eyes. "She has him so blinded. _Damn it!_"

Carter walked back into the hanger straight to his room where he turned in a circle as if looking for the answer.

"John, what's going on?" Maggie stood in the doorway, her arms folded in front of her. "What's in that picture that got you all upset?"

Carter looked at it once more before turning it over to Maggie. "These are proofs, actually."

"I thought she was a prize winning journalist. I haven't seen proofs like these in years," Maggie said as she looked them over. "Wouldn't she do things digitally, or via computer?"

"See any computers around here? Or in the Congo?"

The black and white photo was filled with several pictures, more than a dozen. Maggie 'read' the photos left to right scanning them for anything familiar. "Hey, is that…?" She brought the photo closer to her face, then up into the light. "Is that the one armed guy we lost?"

Carter nodded waiting for her to see the rest.

"And I've seen this picture before. Somewhere." Maggie pointed to one picture in the middle. "Where have I…?"

Carter stared at her not wanting to have to explain it all.

"Yeah. I remember now," she said as she continued looking at the face in the picture. "This was a front page photo in a paper I read a while back. Something about politics, or leaders. But I can't remember his name."

"Jules Akonda-Bouche." He felt the hairs stand up on his arms and a shiver run from his head to the base of his spine as he said it.

"So what does this have to do with Luka, and you, and Colleen?"

"Maggie, this is _the guy_." Carter exhaled once before going on. "This is the guy who kidnapped us, and had me tortured, and played sick mind games with Luka."

"And he's a public figure in the Congo. Why would it be unusual for someone like Colleen to take pictures of him?"

"It's not that. Look, she has lied all along. Pretended not to know him, or the Romano guy and the GPS thing. She obviously placed those drugs out in the perimeter for him. She arranged the ambush to get the supplies." It was almost as though he listed the evidence out loud to verify what he had figured out. "She's been stealing them all along and planting ideas in Luka's head about me. And when you put it all together, it's obvious she's doing it for him, probably for the photo ops."

Maggie pointed at the very last picture in the lower right hand corner. "And it looks like they have a very comfy professional relationship." Looking closer, Carter saw a posed picture of Jules, Romano, an unknown woman and Colleen. All very happy, arms around each other. "Why would she put herself in a picture?"

Carter snickered to himself. "It's a quirky photographer thing. My cousin, Chase, was a photographer. When on assignment for some event that will make big news, a lot of times the photographer will include himself - or herself - in one picture on the roll to prove the authenticity. Make sure nobody else lays claim to them." Carter's train of thought was suddenly broken. "Where are Romano's personal belongings?"

"Last I saw, they were in a box under a table in the treatment area."

The two ran back through the clinic where Maggie looked under the table and retrieved the box. Reaching in she did a quick inventory.

"Anything missing?" Carter asked.

"Yeah. The GPS, and…" Maggie rummaged deeper as a look of concern crossed her face. "… and Carter, the gun isn't here."

"**_Shit!_**" Carter raised a fist and gritted his teeth before turning once again and heading back to his room, Maggie quick to follow.

"Uh-oh, where are you going? Carter? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that he believes that Colleen is unwittingly headed into Jules' hands."

"Well, she is."

"No, Maggie _you don't get it_. Luka thinks that Colleen is innocent, naïve, whatever. He doesn't know what we know. He doesn't know that Colleen is probably well known there." Carter haphazardly groped through his own belongings throwing a few into a small backpack. "He's off trying to get to her and save her before she gets to Jules because Luka knows what pure evil that man is. He's trying to save someone who doesn't need saving."

"Seems to me she's harboring a little of that evil too."

"I've got to get to him."

"No, you have to make contact with the authorities over there," Maggie countered, "and let them take care of it."

"Authorities?" Carter responded in amazement. "There is no _authority _over there, at least not like we know it. There are only rebel factions fighting each other and now it looks like their loyalty is being forced in one direction." Again, Carter turned around in his little bedroom looking for answers, closing his eyes tight occasionally as he fought with his own brain - his own common sense- to find the solution. And then he saw it.

The vest.

He walked over to the corner and pulled it out from behind the box of journals he had kicked across the room the previous night. He stood there staring at it, turning it over in his hands. "_What was his name_," he mumbled to himself under his breath. "_What was it?_"

"Carter?"

He zoned out away from Maggie as he slipped the vest on around his torso. It felt odd dressing like one of them. _What was his name? _His hands harboring the flaps of the vest to his chest wall,Carter stood still, eyes looking down, yet shifting back and forth as he made his plans.

"John?" Maggie looked at his eyes trying to gain entrance to that soul she thought she'd known so well. "What is it?"

His ID hung around his neck, he checked and made sure, before slipping it inside his shirt. He sat down and changed out of his sneakers and into hiking boots making sure the laces were sturdy and tight. _His name_….

"Oh, no. John are you leaving camp?"

"Emile," Carter finally remembered, "Emile dia Wamba." He said it a couple more times to set it in his memory. "Emile dia Wamba."

Carter grabbed his backpack and walked across the hall to the supply room and loaded it with supplies - vials of xylocaine and vancomyacin, trays of antibiotic ADD-vantages and piggy back IV bags for reconstitution, needles and syringes, suture material, needle drivers, scissors, forceps, bottles of oral antibiotics and NSAIDs, and anything that looked like the camp could do without until the next delivery. And something he thought he would never take, never steal again. Three vials each of morphine, demerol and fentanyl. Gold.

"Carter?" Maggie was useless as she followed him around like a pesky insect. "You can't just take this stuff."

"I bought it. I can take it. And I'm sure I'll buy some more." He barely acknowledged her presence as he scanned the room one more time. Out the back door of the hanger and Carter quickly made his way to the Midway where he loaded up on bottled water.

"Carter, where are you going?"

"Stay here, Maggie." He was on the move, on a mission. Walking as quickly as he could he found the jeep that he'd driven Todd's body back in, and the keys were right there. _Couldn't have planned it better_, he thought as he nearly let his eyes miss the dried blood that splayed over the tailgate - still.

"Dr. Carter," a voice called to him as he started the engine. "Excuse me, Dr. Carter, but are you leaving camp too?"

"Have to get someplace, Mr. Tyson." Carter stashed his backpack behind his seat next to the red gas cans, giving them a quick shake to make sure they were filled.

"And you, Dr. Doyle?"

As Carter started the engine, Maggie sat in the seat next to him. "Yep."

"But who's left here?"

"You have two relief docs here. Sean will be back tomorrow," Maggie answered.

"You're not coming with me," Carter told her quietly as he put the Jeep in gear.

"Oh, yes, I am." She latched her lap belt and settled back.

He didn't have time to do battle with her. "You drive stick?" She nodded. "Okay, but you're not going all the way."

"What about the camp?" Norman asked almost in a panic.

"Don't worry, Mr. Tyson," Carter told him as he looked over his sunglasses, "the camp runs itself."

"But there has to be someone in charge."

"Well, Norman," Maggie called out as they drove off, "it's your lucky day. You're in charge. Make me proud," she called without looking back.

Carter couldn't help but snicker inside. Maggie fit in well at the camp after all.

"Shouldn't we stop and get Othiamba?" Maggie asked as they turned onto the road from the gate.

"Don't have time, don't know where he is. Besides, he'd chain me to a chair to keep me here."

"I should have thought of that first," Maggie thought aloud. "Where are we going, exactly?"

Her question wasn't answered as Carter concentrated on the road in front of him and sunk himself into deep thought, bad memories and ultimately his goal at hand.

"John, why? Do you think you're the best one for the job?"

Carter pulled over and stopped abruptly. "Because I know the country. I've lived there, I've have had to find my way in and out of there." He was cocky, perhaps arrogant, most probably justified. "I know the people."

"And they know you. Look what they did to you before."

"_They _didn't. **_He _**did. The people there are being held hostage too. They just don't have a rich family to provide ransom. In case you've forgotten, Toomay and her children are Congolese as are all those other families we've grown close to back there. That man doesn't define the people of the Congo. Not yet, at least."

"But…"

"Maggie, I have to do this. Look, Luka had several opportunities to escape, but he didn't. He stayed behind with me because I was too injured and sick. He made sure we had a chance to get out together when all along he didn't know if he'd even be included in the ransom demand made to my family. At least I had that to hope for. He had nothing. But he stayed. And now I owe it to him."

"Just how ruthless is this man?"

Carter's clenched jaw finally loosened up and wavered from side to side as if testing the hinges before he answered. "On our last day in captivity, we were taken on a march through the jungle, blindfolded. It was long and grueling. We were put to our knees with guns held to our heads." He couldn't look at her - knew he wouldn't be able to tell her about it if he did. Instead he stared down at the worn steering wheel. "When we came to our senses and got our blindfolds off we were all alone in the middle of nowhere. And lying next to Luka with his head blown away was Toomay's husband - _our friend_. We didn't even know he'd been taken." Carter mindlessly rubbed his hands together as he squeezed his eyes open and shut a few times. "Joseph Bisango. Translator, tour guide, engineer, friend…"

The two sat momentarily in silence, the warm late day dry winds whipping their hair, their exposed skin feeling the heat of the sun. He had to do this, Carter knew it. Depressing the clutch and throwing the Jeep into first gear, they continued on, driving in silence, Carter contemplating his next move, Maggie just now understanding that part of Carter and Luka that had been so elusive.

The long drive on the highway came to an end after a couple of hours when Carter turned off and parked near a rickety looking bridge. He sat and looked across to the other side before turning off the engine and grabbing his backpack.

"Make a right onto the road and drive straight back to the camp. You have just enough time before it gets dark," he told Maggie. "Don't stop for anything except to gas up. You hear me?"

"No, I'm coming with you," she told him as she got out of the Jeep.

Carter stepped around the Jeep and put his hand on her shoulder, and not so subtly pushed her back into the seat. "No, you're not. Go home, Maggie. There's danger over there that I can't protect you from." He was serious and she knew it.

"Where are you going? There's nobody even here."

Carter again looked to the other side of the bridge. "Oh, they're there." Hoisting the pack on his back he stepped onto the bridge. He wouldn't turn back, he couldn't.

"John, be careful."

Maggie watched as Carter carefully walked over the bridge to the other side where, almost magically, a group of straggly looking pseudo soldiers with large guns slung over their shoulders emerged from the dark woods covering the other side. She squinted through the hazy sun as Carter conversed with them, pointed towards the woods and finally reached into his pack and passed over many of the supplies he had taken from the clinic. The last thing he did before disappearing through the blanket of green and brown foliage was point back at Maggie. She didn't know what he meant and jumped out of the Jeep intent on following him. Half way across the bridge she was met by the same men, only this time their guns were in front of them pointed at her. She could tell even before they got within ten feet of her that they hadn't bathed in weeks. One of them shook his head and pointed towards the jeep. The other waved his hand at her, taking steps forward until she got the hint and backed away. She understood now. Carter not only paid them to let him in, but to also keep her out.

"Emile dia Wamba." That's all he had to say. It was like a magic password. "Emile dia Wamba." _In like Flynn_, his grandfather would have said. In like Flynn, but now at the mercy of the two men who took him on the next part of his journey. Carter hated himself for being so pig headed in Ikela when Joseph and Luka were trading language lessons. If he'd stuck around he could have had an elementary understanding of Lingala and not be so unsure of what the men leading him were talking about as they chomped on the ends of their stubbed out cigar butts and whacked away at the dense foliage with their machetes.

Long after darkness, a couple hours into their trek, they finally stopped. And just like in a fantasy driven Wizard of Oz kind of way, the rebels each pulled back a curtain of leaves and vines revealing a village of huts and small houses. People milled about, children laughed and played. It was a community - one where weapons from knives to grenade launchers out numbered people - but a community nonetheless.

When the inhabitants saw Carter, they ran to him, recognizing the white doctor from before. Children high-fived him, the littlest ones raising their arms wanting to be picked up. The commotion brought the leader from the confines of his hut, and he too walked over to Carter, extending his hand in a warm handshake, while patting him on the back and pointing at the vest with the other.

"Bonsoir, Dr. Carter. Comment allez-vous?"

Great, he thought. French. "Très bien, merci." He reminded himself to take that eccentric French-Canadian gay guy in Medical Waste up on his offer of French lessons when he got back to Chicago. **If **he got back there.

"Non Rouge?" Emile asked.

"Rouge? Excusez-moi," Carter asked confused. "Red?"

"Oui. Rouge. Mademoiselle Colleen."

"Oh. Colleen." It made Carter chuckle in a sick sort of way to think that she had a rebel street name. "Non, non Rouge." He looked down at the leg he had previously sutured, remembering the rather large knife strapped to the calf very well. "How's the leg? La jambe?"

"Oh! Bien. Très bien." He pulled his pant leg up and proudly displayed his almost healed wound.

"Emile, pouvez-vous m'aider?" Somebody had _better _help him, he thought, before he ran out of the few French phrases he knew and started unintentionally insulting people.

"Oui. Oui."

Good. He was all too willing.

"Pour aller à Jules Akonda-Bouche?" Carter hoped he had asked how to get to that piece of shit, but by the looks on their faces he may have said something to start World War Three.

"Um, vous pouver de… um…no," He scratched his head. "Oh shit… okay," he took a deep breath and spoke very haltingly one word at a time: "Vous pouvez me faire un dessin avec les directions?" He grimaced as he looked at Emile who stood with a blank look on his face. "I'm sorry, my French sucks." He said to himself knowing it wouldn't matter.

"Yes, it surely does." A young man stepped from behind Emile and shook Carter's hand.

"I know you?" Carter asked of the vaguely familiar man.

"Yes, I am Emile's oldest son, Lamia. I think last time we met we were on a mission, you could say."

"You speak very good English, Lamia."

"Yes, well, my father insisted on it. Sent me away to school."

"And brought you back to this?"

"I guess you could say it is the family business." Lamia laughed and Carter laughed with him while inside curdling at the thought of being prideful about this sort of 'business'. "Now, what can we do for you?"

Carter cleared his throat. "Well, I'm looking for a friend. Another doctor. He might be in trouble and I think if I can find this Jules Akonda-Bouche I can find my friend."

Lamia translated for his father who then asked a question back. "You know Jules?"

_Know Jules. Hmm._ Carter paused while he figured out how to diplomatically answer that one. "Let's just say I have had business dealings with him in the past."

More talking went on between the two men before Emile gave Carter another pat on the back and turned to go back to his hut. "My father says that he would be glad to help you, that he owes you at least that much, but that you must be careful."

"Well, thank you. Tell him… later I guess, that I appreciate it."

"We will leave tomorrow at first light. I will take you myself."

"Tomorrow?" Carter asked concerned about the head start Luka already had on him. "I'm afraid I won't get to him in time."

Lamia laughed again. "No, not to worry. Nobody travels at night. I guarantee you that your friend is not moving around the country right now. I'm sure he's resting very comfortably for the night."

* * *

TUESDAY NOON

Maggie had paced circles around the hanger, both inside and out, waiting for Sean and Bob to get back into camp. The sun had been up for hours and there was no sighting yet. She told the staff that Carter and Luka had taken a few days off, which actually gave them some relief seeing as how the doctors had been on edge lately. But Norman knew. He knew and it worried Maggie. The camp was still reeling from the ambush and Todd's murder as well as Sera's sudden absence. As he crossed the compound after getting his lunch at the Midway, Maggie caught his eye and he returned the inquisitive look. She marveled at how the man could quite possibly drop trou and shit bricks on her command if she so desired.

"Norman? I think we need to talk."

"No, Dr. Doyle. I think we understand each other."

"Do we?" For the first time she saw that his eyes were actually connecting with hers.

"Look, I've been here long enough to know it's about more than money."

"Norman, I don't know what… I can't be sure…" She suddenly found herself speechless in front of the pencil necked accountant. "We need to keep our cool and give the staff and families a sense of safety." She emphasized the _we _part.

"I understand. Business as usual. I'll do what I can," he said. "I can even count beans in the kitchen if I have to." A very faint smile sneaked out from his mouth as he did his best to put Maggie at ease.

A new Land Rover entered the camp and parked next to the Midway. Sean got out of the driver's side, but there was no Bob. Maggie never thought she'd actually wished to see Bob.

"Sean," Maggie ran to him, "we have a situation. Where's Bob?"

"He stayed back in Kampala. There was a lot of paper work and whatnot to deal with. He had to do his … well… whatever it is he does." Sean looked exhausted and drained from having to present Todd's body to his parents. "What situation?"

Maggie explained what had happened, everything she and Carter had found in Colleen's bag, Romano's pack and that Luka had left camp right after the meeting the previous day in search of Colleen. "And Carter's gone too."

"**What?**" Sean threw his hands over his head. "Bloody hell, what the feck do those lads think we are here? A search and rescue? _Shite_." He walked his own circles around Maggie while trying to figure out just how to get Carter and Luka safely out of the Congo. "I'll be gobsmacked if those two bloaks get out of this one alive." He was wearing his Irish brogue on his sleeve. "I canna molly coddle those two flipin' eejits twenty-four hours a day. And here they go off risking their nobs for a scrubber like her."

"Sean…" Maggie had had the entire night and then some to get used to the situation and was trying to calm Sean while he heard for the first time. Maggie, on the other hand, didn't understand a word the man was saying.

"I swear, those two are not the full shilling!"

"**Sean!**" Maggie startled Norman and well as Sean. "We have to get Bob back here."

"I dunno how you expect me to. He took nothing with him. I did not see a satellite phone on him when he boarded the chopper. And he didn't think he'd get back here until tomorrow."

* * *

Lamia knew the region well, and evidently the people were just as eager to welcome him as they made their way in and out of small villages and encampments. By late afternoon they had hitched three separate rides and were on what Lamia told Carter would be their last transport of the day. Carter's stomach began to turn as the thought of going face to face with Jules crept up on him. But instead of the stop off being their final destination, Carter learned that it was just that - a stop-off.

Lamia left Carter there after telling him that someone would be there the next day to take him on the final leg of the journey.

"I hear that Jules is having a big celebration tomorrow night. Many dignitaries." Lamia told him. "You will be just in time."

"Your father too?"

"No. My father is not _that _kind of dignitary," the young man chuckled.

Now alone, Carter walked into the small building and was greeted by a man wearing surgical scrubs. He had a cap and gloves on and was just finishing suturing a man's leg where it appeared a bullet had landed.

"You doctor?" the man asked, obviously not proficient in English. Carter nodded. "Yes, yes. Me doctor too."

The tiny room was the surgery suite. The table was filthy, the floor cluttered with discarded bandages and pools of drying blood. Carter thought that this is what must pass as a rebel MASH camp. It made him shudder. With daylight fading, there would be no more surgery and the 'doctor' began picking up for the day. When the man stepped out to wash up, Carter reached into the trash bin and carefully pulled out two empty vials, both with Luka's unique inventory codes. With the swiftness of his former addict life, Carter pocketed them.

The man stepped back in and motioned Carter to join him outside for a meal.

"Parlez-vous français" Carter asked.

"Oh, no." Somehow the man's answers were always accompanied by a big grin.

"Parlez-vous anglais?"

"Oh yes." That was a comfort. "I talk little English good. No?"

Oh boy.

Now it was the man's turn to ask. "You talk Kinyarwanda?" The man was awful hopeful.

"Excuse me?" Carter was definitely out of his element. "I am from America. You?"

"Rwanda."

The meal wasn't half bad as far as rations go. Carter decided to do what he had to to get through the night while keeping his distance from Frank Burns over there. The man simply smiled a lot, probably grateful to have someone to talk to that wasn't armed to the hilt and bleeding from filthy wounds.

A tent was set up next to the campfire and Carter escorted inside. Definitely decorated with the minimalist approach, he thought. A cot and netting, one blanket. He was dead tired and didn't care. Surprisingly he fell asleep quickly.

  
WEDNESDAY

He was hot. He could feel the heat as it scorched his neck. And the insects were crawling all over his skin nipping at him and punching their stingers through his epidermis whenever they got the chance. Carter wanted to reach around and swat at them, but he couldn't. He couldn't move his hands and his head felt like it was in a vice held in place by his upper arms. Dark. Darkness all around, and he couldn't move.

A bug landed on the back of his neck but didn't stick around, the sudden whoosh of air pushing it away. Not air… breath. Someone was breathing on his neck, and making snapping noises through his teeth. The breath moved from left to right as the man's presence felt like electrical energy just inches away.

"_Aristophenes 385 B.C_.," he spilled out into Carter's ear with vile intent and an evil laugh.

Carter bolted upright, fighting with the netting, and sucking in his breath as deeply and fast as he could. Looking at his hands he convinced himself that the dream was a long ago event, but it didn't prevent him from getting out of the suffocating confines of the tent as fast as he could.

The sun had just risen and people were beginning to mill around the small encampment. Walking into the makeshift surgical suite, Carter found his new friend just waking up himself having spent the night on the surgery table.

Within a couple hours the sick and wounded had formed a line outside of the building. Lots of wounded, but no escort for Carter as Emile's son had promised. The Rwandan doctor wasn't phased that these people would be waiting hours for treatment, so without even asking, Carter jumped in and started tending to them. He found a basin of gloves - not the disposables that they'd become spoiled with at the PCRC - but washed, rewashed, and re-powdered gloves just as they had used in the clinic in Ikela, only the source of the water was suspect.

He took a short break to eat, then it was back to work, this time assisting the Rwandan doctor with an amputation and the anesthesia of choice - or rather availability - was ether. By mid afternoon, Carter was covered in sweat and blood, he hadn't shaved in two days and a shower was even more ancient. He fit right in. Finally while sitting on a log swigging down one of his last two bottles of water, a small pick-up truck pulled in.

A clean cut looking African man got out from behind the wheel and tossed Carter's pack into the back.

"You a government soldier?" Carter asked pointing to the man's clothing.

He didn't answer Carter, but instead took out some papers. "These are from Emile." He handed them to Carter and pointed to the ID around his neck. "Get rid of those. They are worthless here now."

Carter put his Alliance ID inside his shirt and looked at the papers. "A visa? I didn't apply for…" He put the papers closer to his face, cocked his head and noticed one irregularity. "Canada?"

"No picture required for a temporary visa."

"Are these forged?"

"They will get you where you need to go and home again." The man was all business.

Carter was getting used to the roads tossing him around and punishing his back side. His driver didn't say another word to him for the few hours they were in the truck. At one point they veered from the roadway and took what looked like - and felt like - a lesser known route. When the truck got stuck twice, the woods emptied of men with weapons who pushed them out and then disappeared back into hiding, not one word exchanged among them.

The sun had set and the full moon reflected off of the green shiny frons of the banana and palm trees. The truck came to another stop, only this time the driver stayed put.

"You go now," he told Carter, "around the curve and up that hill there. You'll be safe."

"Where exactly am I going?" Carter asked hoping to get an honest answer.

"You will see. Many people are there from other countries. It is well guarded. I am sure you understand why I cannot go with you."

Carter got out and shut the door, leery of separating from his rebel escort, yet conflicted about his reliance on him and his _colleagues _during this trip as opposed to a few months ago. He twice looked back at the driver while attempting to get his feet moving.

"Dr. Carter," the man sensed the insecurity, "you are not alone - as you saw. If you need help or feel that you are in trouble, just ask for Emile dia Wamba. He does not give his name out freely and only those in his inner circle know to ask for him. He must think highly of you." With that, he turned the truck around and left Carter standing in the jungle - alone.

Once the rumble of the truck could no longer be heard, Carter heard the faint sounds in the distance of drums and singing. Odd musical instruments punctuated the air with their off key notes and haunting melodies. He was no longer alone when he came around the curve, walking directly into a check point. Holding his breath back so as not to hyperventilate, Carter tried as best he could to look nonchalant, taking his 'visa' out and showing it to the guards.

"Parlez-vous français?" they asked Carter.

_Great_, he thought. _Now I really have to put on the act_.

"Oh, oui, oui," he spewed with a cocky smile conjuring up images in his head of the corny French cartoon characters of his youth. He so wanted to roll his eyes at himself.

"Merci." His papers were handed back and he was waved through. Just like that. Before the man had a chance to give Carter a second look, the doctor was well on his way out of sight. If Carter had learned anything from his past experience, it was to take what he was offered and to move on quickly - and quietly.

It was another mile of walking before he passed a large open field and a house set way back, but his eyes were drawn to the light ahead of him - a large bonfire surrounded by hundreds of people, many wearing ceremonial African costumes. He stood at a distance and watched the dancers around the fire and the men, woman and children cheering them on. The drums were so loud he felt them resonating through his chest wall and the high pitched singing voices shrilled in his ears.

"What are you doing here?"

Carter snapped his eyes away from the goings on and startled when he saw Luka standing in front of him holding onto the arm of a pregnant African woman.

"Carter. You need to get out of here."

"I came to get you. Come on, there's still time and I have a contact - a good one - that can get us out of here safely."

Luka looked haggard. His face was bruised, his arm hung to the side like a dead weight and he was certainly unkempt, but so was Carter. There was something else about him that wasn't right. Something that peaked Carter's concern.

"Luka, we have to go _now_."

"No. _You _do."

Carter looked Luka up and down puzzled by how he was dressed, how he didn't look like… Luka Kovac. He pulled out the folded up sheet of proofs and the scrap of paper with Colleen's hand writing. "Luka, we found these in Colleen's bag." Luka looked at them but Carter wasn't sure if he really registered what was on them. "She's dirty, Luka. She set me up. She used you." He wasn't even sure if Luka was hearing him. He seemed so disaffected. "She's dirty."

"No."

"Luka, look at me. I just came from a rebel field hospital where I found these." He took the two marked vials from his pocket and showed them to Luka, hoping he would take them. He didn't. "They're ours, with _your _marks. Don't you see? She's buying her way to Jules through us, all for pictures."

"Get out, Carter. Go home."

For a moment Carter wondered if Luka was all part of it. "What? Have you been helping her? Did you give these meds to that field hospital?"

Luka had a cold, hard look about him. They stood face to face and looked through each other for what seemed like forever.

"You've seen him, haven't you?" Carter asked incredulously. "You've been talking to Jules." It made him sick to even think about it.

"Go back down that road, Carter. There are vehicles going in and out of the area. Get a ride."

Luka walked off into the trees to the side of the road disappearing with the woman into the darkness of the jungle without even looking back.

"Luka," Carter called after him, "you know you can't believe him."

He'd done what he'd come to do. He tried to convince Luka. He tried - he failed and now he was left standing there. He turned to walk back down the road hoping that somehow he would meet up with Luka again. After all, he wasn't with Colleen **or **Jules, and he was leaving the celebration where Jules was thought to be. An SUV with darkened windows pulled into the field and parked next to the little house Carter had passed on his way in. Walking through the field he approached the vehicle hoping to get a ride out, or at least directions. At least he could ask for Emile. A man exited from the driver's side and walked around the front, eventually close enough so that Carter could see him.

At first Carter thought the moonlight was playing tricks on him, or that somehow what he was seeing was a figment of his imagination. But it wasn't.

"Well, fancy meeting you here Dr. Carter," the refined British voice remarked to him. "What brings you back to these parts?" His voice was smooth and succinct, his words languishing into each other, never pausing, always accentuated with deep, dark purpose.

The backpack, having lightened its load since leaving the PCRC, slipped down to Carter's hand as his shoulders wept downward in disbelief. His face fell in concert with the pack as Jules took out his neatly pressed white handkerchief and deftly blotted the sweat from his brow and sucked in the air between his teeth.

"It _is _a lovely evening, Hmm? Full moon and all." Jules moved away from the SUV and circled around to the other side of Carter giving him no where to go but the large vehicle behind him. The several feet that separated the two might as well have been inches.

"I so miss your voice, Dr. Carter. You see, of all of the pained screams I've heard, yours was the _most _refined, I'm sure due to your privileged upbringing." The moon acted as a spotlight ringing the two with white light and shadowing all else around them. "Do you not have anything to say?"

Carter stood immobile, not wanting to back down, but certainly not ready to give in to Jules. He clenched his fists, the fingernails digging into the thin skinned palm of his hands.

"It's a pity, really, that we could not share with one another on a more equal level like your colleague, Dr. Kovac, has seen fit to do. I do believe that you and I would have more to talk about than a commoner such as Luka." He was smug, and he loved it. "Who is it that your grandfather so admired? Winston Churchill was it? I believe it was he who said, _play the game for more than you can afford to lose... only then will you learn the game_. Have you learned the game yet - Carter?" He curled a smile only on one side as he relished his position.

Without moving, but with perhaps an air of upping the anty, Carter looked straight into the vile man's eyes. "I believe he also said, _a cat looks down on man, a dog looks up to man, but a pig will look man right in the eye and see his equal._"

Jules laughed. No, he howled in laughter. "Are you calling me a _pig_?"

"I'm saying you are no better than a pig."

"Well, you suddenly have a spine, my dear doctor. Now, what is it I can do for you?"

"Let Kovac go."

"He's a free man. He can come and go as he pleases." A loud series of explosions lit up the night as Jules turned and looked into the sky behind him. "Splendid," he remarked with excitement, "they've started the fireworks. I do so love a good display. Don't you?"

"Has Colleen Reilly been working for you?"

"Ms. Reilly is distinguished in her profession. I am simply but one of the public figures she documents. Are you jealous?"

Carter snickered at the thought. "She tried to have me killed."

"Oh, now, I wouldn't go that far. Hmm, how can I say this?" Jules playfully tapped his chin with his finger as if in deep thought. "It's not that she _tried _to kill you, but that you were… let's say… _expendable_."

"So you knew. You knew all about the trip to the satellite clinic - the ambush."

From the moonlit cast shadows, Carter saw a figure silently approach Jules from behind.

"You and your friend are quite gullible subjects, do you know that?" the demented dictator spewed. "No, I don't suppose you do."

Luka's presence went unnoticed by the rebel leader as he very slowly and with great confidence stood within feet of Jules. He looked past him at Carter - looked directly into his eyes - and with his good arm, pulled a large pistol from in his waistband under his shirt before returning his focus to the back of Jules' head.

Carter didn't let on that he knew. "Do I need to ask what side Luka is on? Are you using him too?"

"He and Colleen make such a lovely couple. Both so strong and determined. Not all too bright, but, oh well…," he sighed.

Luka remained frozen in place as Jules continued lathering himself with his narcissistic tongue.

"Isn't the human mind remarkable? It is so pliable, and like a flimsy piece of rubber, it can be pulled and twisted into any number of shapes. But in the end, the owner of that mind won't do anything that he - or she - truly does not want to do… or so I'm told."

"You're one sick bastard."

"Mmm. I believe that is debatable. After all, who in their right mind would return to the place that made them a broken man? Maybe those who seek to become one with his tormentor? Is that what you came here for? To purge your angelic character of the evils you associate with your last visit?"

A brilliant array of colors fell from the sky. Carter was glad that his occasional glances at Luka would be interpreted as a viewing of the fireworks. But once again, his stomach knotted up as Luka's demeanor frightened him.

"Or was it to eliminate what was interfering with your life? Because sometimes one must eliminate those… _things_… that clutter the soul."

Luka was so one dimensional. He stood like a statue, his head lowered slightly, eyes cast up away from the dark circles that had traced the orbs below them. Luka lifted the heavy gun with his right hand while his left hung mercilessly at his side, but instead of pointing it at Jules, he aimed it squarely at Carter. His eyes… his eyes were so cold and devoid of emotion.

"You see, my friend, I can make anyone do just about anything for me."

The fireworks reached a crescendo and blended in well with the sound of the gun firing.


	21. Chapter 21 We Deceive Ourselves

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**_Chapter Twenty-One_**

**

* * *

_We are never deceived; we deceive ourselves. -_Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe 1749-1832, German Poet, Dramatist, Novelist

* * *

**

EARLY MONDAY

Two large military helicopters rose from the soccer fields and slowly ascended, the heavy wind bouncing from the belly of the airships tussling Luka's unkempt hair as he sat behind the Midway. Todd was going home, Sean and Bob escorting his body preparing to answer the parents' questions in Kampala. Sera probably wouldn't return after her recovery. Toomay was tending to the shattered emotions of her children and Mbuto. That left Maggie, Carter and Norman, none of whom Luka wanted to be with at that moment. The 'intervention' had gone horribly wrong with Luka finding himself on the defensive as he worked to clear Colleen's name.

As he sat wringing his hands, roughly scraping at the parched skin over his knuckles, he kept thinking about how Carter tried to divert attention away from the focus of the meeting. And about Carter taking advantage of his absence… taking advantage of Colleen. _In her pants pocket_… he said. _Found it in_… Luka stood rubbing the back of his neck and gnawed his lower lip… _her pants pocket_. What a segue, he thought. From drug stealing to impropriety. And Maggie bought it. Hell, Sean probably did too, he smirked inside.

"Are you okay?" Norman Tyson stood before Luka wearing his usual pocket protector loaded with pencils, pens and markers. "Dr. Kovac?"

"Did you see her leave?"

"Who?"

"Colleen."

"Oh. Well, yes. She had a ride."

That's right, Luka thought. "Did she tell you where she was going?"

"Just that she was going to track down that one armed rebel's story and that she'd be gone for a while."

Luka's gut sank and soured. She was going in search of 'Romano's' background. He closed his eyes and eerily felt Jules' presence. How he could suck the life out of a person with just his words and how his total lack of conscience dictated such a tortured way of life for anyone who crossed him. His panicked eyes flew back open when he realized that Colleen would be walking straight into Jules' hands.

"Shit. **_SHIT!_**"

"What is it doctor?"

"Nothing, Norman. I'm not working today. I, ah… I'll be out of the camp."

Walking into the front door of the clinic he skirted around the staff as they treated patients. Under the table next to where they performed surgeries he found the box with Romano's backpack. Luka didn't waste any time reaching in and finding the GPS. But before he could pull it out his hand brushed beside something else hard and cold. He knew what it was without even seeing it. The GPS went in his pocket, the gun in his waistband under his shirt. Under the remains of the man's pants that had been cut away he found a leather shoulder holster. That went with Luka as well.

His next stop was the Midway where he found Danny and Buzby.

"Show me how to use this," Luka told them pushing the GPS across the table.

They all went outside where Danny put the GPS on top of a tree stump out in the open, then turned it on. "It's searching for a satellite," he explained. After a few minutes the boys pushed some buttons. "There's only one 'way point' in the memory and we're not too far from it."

Luka knew that that was where Romano had been found. "What about the point of origination?" Luka asked.

They fiddled some more with it, then showed Luka the screen. "That's it."

"Can it be turned around? Can we make that a 'way point' and where we are here the point of origination?"

"Sure doc, watch." This time Buzby took the unit and spent a few moments with it before turning it back over to Luka. "There. You're quite a ways away. You have to go west, south-west. See?" Luka took note of his destination:

**4° 2¢ 60 N**

**18° 45¢ 00 E **

"As you get closer, the kilometers will click down eventually showing meters to destination. Watch the arrow like a compass, sort of. Follow the arrow and watch that the kilometers continue to decrease, not increase."

"Thanks guys," Luka barely got out before he took the GPS and left.

He found Othiamba sound asleep after a night of security detail. Luka walked in his room and tapped him on the leg. The light sleeping soldier was quick to jump.

"I need you to get me across the border," Luka told him with the intonation of a request for a ride to the market.

He rubbed his eyes, not sure of what he was hearing before he sat up and quizzed Luka. "Pardon me. You want me to get you into Congo?"

"Yes."

"No. I can't do that. It's too dangerous." He almost laughed.

"Alright, I'll find another way." Luka turned and left the room intent on getting to Colleen any way he could.

"Dr. Luka, stop." Othiamba ran from the building with just his shorts on. "Dr. Luka."

The two returned to Othiamba's room where Luka explained very little to him, except that a friend was in trouble and he had to get there.

"So you are telling me that the only way you will stay here is if I lock you up?"

Luka nodded once and raised his eyebrows at the soldier who was now dressed.

"And you cannot wait until tomorrow when Bob and Sean get back?"

"I'm wasting time already."

"I tell you what, I will get you to Bunia where there are UN peacekeepers. You can let them handle it from there. But you stay with me and that is as far as you go. "

Again Luka nodded his understanding, but inside wondered if he was doing the right thing.

"I suppose you do not have the proper papers." Othiamba sat on his bed as he thought about ways to get around that bit of a technicality. "Well most people there don't. But just in case…"

Othiamba took out a pair of camouflage military pants, a black t-shirt and some regulation boots. "Take these and change into them. I'll explain you away somehow."

Luka went back to his room and quickly changed into the clothing, tucking the pants into the black boots laced above his ankles. The t-shirt was a bit small and smug on his arms, but long enough to tuck into the waistband of his belted pants. He hadn't worn a shoulder holster since his time in the military back in Croatia, but he put it on as though he'd done it everyday since then. Bending over to pick the gun up from the bed he stopped halfway when he spied Colleen's duffle bag, one of her shirts thrown haphazardly on top of it.

He found himself sitting on the floor, his back propped against the bed, holding the shirt to his face, no longer doubting himself. It still smelled of her. She had worn it the last time they had made love. He smiled as he closed his eyes and took another deep breath, remembering how she playfully teased him about not taking off the shirt.

"_Uh, uh, uh_," she teased in a sing-song voice, "_you have to earn that, you bad boy_."

She left some of her things, he thought. She **is **coming back. Why would she if she was stealing?

Inside her book which lay on the floor next to him, Luka took the picture of the younger looking Colleen, the innocent girl who so looked up to her mom - Amanda. And he also remembered how good Jules was at using his victim's happy memories -the stability of their will to live- against them. Using it… using it…. twisting it… then crushing them with it.

"She only has Amanda. And me," he said as he pocketed the picture. "And I won't let him get to her."

The gun lay in the middle of his bed. It wasn't small, he recognized it as a Russian built gun preferred by rogue military around the world. A Yarygin Pistol with deadly accuracy, able to hold 17 bullets in the magazine. He held it by the black grip and familiarized himself with the steel frame barrel. Luka cocked and locked a bullet in the chamber, then flipped the safety back on. _Romano was one serious rebel_, he thought. The loaded gun was snapped into the holster and spare magazine put into his other pocket.

The staff was so busy in the clinic they didn't see Luka leave. Had they caught sight of him, they most assuredly would have suspected something. Even Luka paused as he saw his reflection in the glass windows of the empty office. Paused, but didn't stop. He had the stature of a mercenary soldier and on his face he carried an equally solid and resolute, focused look.

"Let's go," he told Othiamba as he hopped into the jeep at the gate.

"You have a gun, Dr. Luka?"

"Don't you think I'd look suspicious if I didn't?"

Luka didn't ask how Othiamba was able to arrange for them to tag along on a UN supply flight into Bunia from Nebbi. He didn't care how he got there, and was excited to think he could possibly catch up to Colleen or maybe even head her off. What he did worry about was how he was going to free himself from Othiamba's overly watchful eye.

They had to hoof it into Bunia from the landing zone. The faces of the Congolese people moving in and out of the village were familiar to Luka. Familiar in their weariness and lack of home. The smells were still there too. Of truck exhaust and gunpowder. Sewage and death. And the children were ever present with their weapons close to their side, not a parent in site. Some youngsters smoked home rolled cigarettes while playing a quick game of soccer, always sure to sling their weapons across their backs so as not to let them get in the way.

When they got to a large building with UN peacekeepers milling about, Luka took advantage of his time alone while Othiamba entered the building in search of some help. The GPS took a couple minutes to orient itself to the satellite and hone in on the way point - the longitude and latitude of Jules. All he knew at this point was that he needed to go almost directly west, and he was far from his destination.

"Alright, we'll have to wait here for the commander," Othiamba announced as he bounded down the steps of the building. "He won't be back for a while."

Luka carefully slipped the GPS back into his pocket. He knew that if Othiamba thought he was searching for Colleen by way of Jules, he would do anything to keep him from doing so, even if it meant using his comrades in uniform.

"Do you know where your friend might be?"

Luka simply shrugged and kept his attention away from Othiamba as though he were checking out the action going on around him. "Where do the roads out of here lead to?"

"Well, this here goes north to Aba or south to Beni and Goma." Othiamba pointed to another road looking to be well traveled. "That road there is the east-west route. Goes through Mambasa, Ikela all the way to the other end of the Congo River in the city of Mbandaka."

"Is it safe to travel?" Luka asked.

"Well, not much has changed since you were here last. It's a little less unpredictable. I guess you could call it _organized chaos_, from what I hear." Othiamba handed him two bottles of water. "We'll talk to the commander and do what we can to get a search team together. Then I think we'll have just enough time to catch another flight back to Nebbi by nightfall."

"Do you have any friends here?" Luka asked.

"Oh yes. My old unit was reassigned here last month. That's who I was talking to in there." Othiamba spied yet another familiar person and waved as they skirted by him.

"Well don't let me stop you. I can wait around out here if you want to spend some time with them." Luka gave him a smile and pat on the back as he sat down against a partially destroyed statue at the base of the stairs. Othiamba was more than eager to take him up on his offer, but once he was inside the building, Luka was back on his feet, long gone heading west.

The kilometers ticked down on the GPS as he trekked west on the road blending in well with the assorted villagers, soldiers and foreign aid workers. Eventually he hopped on the back of a flatbed farm truck hauling bags of grain, the British UN guards on the back more than happy to provide a ride to someone who spoke English. He was a doctor with the UN, he explained, attached to the _Alliance de Medecines Internationale. _For this he pulled out his _Alliance _ID tags and let them hang freely around his neck outside of his shirt. The guards were talkative and eager to discuss world news, though Luka really did not have much to share. When that truck pulled off the main road, Luka hopped off with yet another souvenir given to him by his compatriots: a blue UN peacekeeper's hat to replace the one he claimed to have lost. He folded it into his belt and left it hanging to the side as he walked for another hour before hitching a ride with some locals - his new blue hat a trusting welcome.

He was on and off, in and out of vehicles for the better part of the day finally making a stop in a populated area, one which was familiar to him, one which brought back warm memories yet frightening chills. Ikela.

It was a different town than when he last lived there with Joseph and Toomay. The old fashioned, laid back country atmosphere was gone, replaced by government soldiers, UN peacekeepers and some aid workers as well as shady looking characters. Ahead of him was the house - The Bisango home. He walked up to it and stepped in finding it had become an office of sorts for the media.

"Can I help you, mate?" a man asked, his Australian accent fresh and new.

"I, um…" Luka looked around and saw that very little had been disturbed. "I used to live here in this house. This was… **is **my friends' house." Almost dismissing the strange man in the living area, Luka walked around him and looked into the small kitchen closing his eyes briefly as he tried to remember Toomay's cooking, the morning coffee and the children playing with Carter before bedtime. The porch was still the same, though the beds were gone, replaced by crates and discarded boxes. He stepped down into the porch just so he could hear that one board creak, the one that he'd learned so well to avoid when he got up in the night. The one that Carter tried to avoid but always failed at, cursing under his breath as the boards rubbed together. Through the gray mat of the screens Luka saw that even the small fire pit remained where he, Carter and Joseph spent many an evening discussing life, love, family and philosophy. His eyes followed the road that led up to the clinic away from the back yard as it curved around some trees disappearing into the nether regions of the jungle encapsulated mountain. He wondered if the clinic was still there… Chibon and Agunda…

"Mate? You okay?"

"Hmm? Yes. I, uh,… thank you."

"Where you off to?"

"West. I'm not sure exactly yet." Luka stepped over to the table next to the window and picked up a photograph of the family. Young Joseph was just a toddler on his father's lap at the time. Luka straightened the curled edges and put it in his back pocket intent on giving it to Toomay when he returned to Pakwach.

"And you are…?" the Australian asked.

"I know who you are," another voice called out from the bedroom doorway. "I've taken your picture before, only you didn't look so well at the time." He approached Luka and shook his hand, still examining his face. "You are one of the doctors, yes? One that was kidnapped?"

Luka nodded, still not quite sure of who the man was.

"I was at the Kampala airport. You had me take your picture on the stairs to the jet."

Luka smiled, recognizing the event, but not the face. Too long ago, a bad time, and certainly more on his mind. "Okay. You'll have to forgive me. I don't remember your face, but I do remember that day very well. I'm Luka Kovac."

"I'm Jeffrey and this is me mate, Michael. We're with the Australian Associated Press." More handshakes. "And how did the other doctor fair? The one that was so poorly looking?"

"Just fine. He's back in Pakwach, Uganda working at another refugee camp."

"And you're with the UN now?" Jeffrey commented pointing to the blue hat draped over Luka's belt.

"Hmm? Oh, ah, yes." Luka cleared his throat uncomfortable with the deception, but not enough to blow it. "I'm wondering if you could help me out." Taking his GPS out, he stepped out the door and turned it back on.

Michael wrote down the coordinates and stepped back into the house. "Come on in, mate. Let's see what we have for maps." He rolled out a few maps onto the dining table and read the coordinates, his fingers finally making it to a pin point location. "There it is. You're headed west alright, to the Mbandaka Region, just outside Dakamba actually."

"What's there?"

"You don't know?" Jeffrey asked skeptically with a smile and a look at his friend. "Listen, I'd go with you but it's a closed event. Invited press only. Whoever scored that shoot is one lucky bastard."

"What is?"

"You're going there and you don't know why?"

"Didn't ask. I'm just supposed to be there as part of a medical team and I lost my ride," Luka bluffed.

"Well it's late, we need to eat. You can stay the night with us here. Then we'll see about getting you to the event first thing in the morning."

"I really need to be there tonight."

"You step foot out there in the dark and you'll get nothing but a bullet between the eyes, blue hat or not."

It was a concession he had to make, but it would at least get him there in one piece. As he was setting up a cot in the screened porch, he asked Jeffrey one more question. "What ever happened to the family we left behind in Kampala?"

"The woman and her three children - well two alive at least? I did a piece on them for the AAP and a religious organization back home sponsored them as a refugee family. They're doing well, from what I understand, back in Melbourne."

**TUESDAY **

Jeffrey and Michael arranged for Luka to get as far west as they could, driven by a local translator. The man was willing to take him straight to the first check point just outside of Dakemba, but Luka made him stop short. He'd get fried at the check point. Absolutely fried. Instead, once the translator was out of sight, Luka took out the trusty GPS and hoped the battery still had life. Once oriented, it told him he only had a few kilometers to go - he was down to single digits. He put on the hat just in case and took off on foot through the jungle following the arrow and watching the kilometers tick down.

Off the road in the shade of the trees, vines and leaves, it was cooler. Still hotter than the dickens, but cooler than the open road nonetheless. Of course the trade off was that the bugs found the dark dankness of the foliage quite inviting and went for any part of Luka left exposed: his arms, face and neck. His sweat was a conduit for the pests like the sticky medium on fly strips. As he stepped over tree routes and around the larger bushes, the dried twigs and curdled leaves crunching under his feet, the smell of the decaying leaves and bark, he experienced a déjà vu, only it wasn't in his imagination, it was in his own memory. Last time he hiked through the jungle he was blindfolded, his arms tied behind his back, forced to stumble over what he couldn't see. Forced to march to what he predicted would be his own brutal murder. This time it was different. Luka had come in search of Colleen to save her from the same fate that had awaited Luka and Carter. But deep down he knew. He knew that this time he was really hunting Jules.

The GPS suddenly changed from kilometers to meters and Luka stopped in his tracks afraid to move, afraid to breath because he knew that he was right on top of Romano's point of origin. He turned to face the direction the arrow was pointing in and very carefully walked one step at a time, almost heel to toe on the outsides of his feet to lessen the unnatural sounds of his approach. His heart was pounding… just pounding, so much so that he even looked down to see if his shirt was moving in concert with it. The arrow on the GPS began to move in different directions and according to the distance marker, he was just meters away… meters away from the house he saw.

Luka squatted down and unsnapped the leather strap holding the gun in the holster, just in case. From behind his large tree he could look over his shoulder and see the back of the small building as well as a few parked vehicles adjacent to a wide open, expansive field. The rays of the setting red sun stretched through the branches and pierced his eyes making him flinch and turn his head as he squinted away the momentary blindness. He was determined to stay there as long as he had to, to listen and watch for Colleen.

With his knees drawn up to his chest, Luka remained motionless, moving only his eyes as he followed the distinct but sporadic clatter of nature and scoped out his surroundings. He didn't bother the two rather large insects, one smaller than the other, as they walked in unison up and over the toe of his boot, but instead marveled at their ability to maneuver around the landscape and blend in with the life and death of nature's jungle habitat. As Luka offered his hand out next to his boot, the bugs halted and seemed to silently communicate with each other, then quickly found an alternate route, deftly avoiding what was so obviously not part of their safe haven. Even they knew what belonged and what didn't. The two marched away from his boot, stopped one more time as if to look back, and as Luka watched with his head resting on his knee, the smaller of the two insects lurched out and took the larger one in its mouth, slowly devouring it, the unsuspecting victim still flailing about until more than half had been swallowed. He thought, if he'd only known…

As the natural shadows of dusk wrapped around him, Luka's eyes began to droop. He'd not slept well the night before. Hell, he hadn't slept well in months. But before he could sink into sleep a noise behind him brought him back to attention. He opened his eyes and reached up to grab the gun from it's holster, then carefully stood straight up against the tree.

**TUESDAY EVENING**

Sean had joined Norman and Maggie in their pacing outside the Midway, counting the hours since Carter had left - 24, and Luka - 36. Sean continued to fume over the doctors' decisions to leave camp without communicating with him, or without even thinking things through. Not only had they left camp, but they weren't even together.

Vehicles entering the camp normally traveled at a snail's pace allowing for pedestrians, especially children. But the jeep that shot through the gate and skidded to a stop in front of the Midway was anything _but _careful. Bob jumped out before it had come to a complete stop. Othiamba, who was driving, nearly exited before even putting it into first gear.

Two more large SUV's with tinted windows barreled in after them, several men in dark colored clothing spilling out and following Bob into the Midway. Not only did Sean feel out numbered, but the obvious size difference made him feel about as tall as a kitten.

"Everybody else out," Bob shouted as the few remaining diners were ushered out the side door. "Sean and Doyle, stay put."

Norman raised his eyebrows. "And, uh,… and me?" He wagged his finger in the air.

Bob shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"What the bloody hell…" Sean was without words, for the first time.

"Othiamba tracked me down - told me that we have a situation. Is that right Sean?" Bob had tucked away his snide sarcastic façade in favor of his professional demeanor. Or at least he tried to.

"Seems we've lost two of our doctors," Sean admitted.

"Two?" Bob turned to Othiamba standing behind him, dressed in the same dark outfits as the other silent, well armed men. "Othiamba?"

"I know only of Dr. Kovac."

Bob looked around the room again taking into account who was there and who wasn't. "Let me make an educated guess. Dr. Carter is **not **busy tending to patients across the way." The dead silence was his affirmative answer. "**Fuck**. _Son of a bitch_." After he slammed a chair into the floor he put his hands on a table and leaned into them, sighing. "Even a cow knows not to step into a bear trap twice." Nobody dared say a word. "Othiamba tells me that Kovac is off looking for a friend in danger. Correct?" Heads nodded. "Would that be Carter?"

"Um, no," Maggie spoke up, "actually Carter left late yesterday looking for Kovac."

"So if Kovac left first on this great adventure, who the _hell _is **_he _**looking for?"

"Colleen Reilly." Sean hesitated at first, still stunned by Bob's elaborate appearance.

"Reilly?" Bob's mouth stayed open with that one. "So she's in Congo, Kovac went to find _her_, and Carter left to find _him_?"

"We had a meeting yesterday morning," Norman interjected, stuttering, "about the drug situation."

"Oh, for crying out loud. Are you people still whining about that?"

"We were worried about Dr. Carter. But now I think it's quite clear that he isn't taking the drugs." A flustered Norman took out his handkerchief, not so neatly this time, and cleaned his glasses.

"I could have told you that."

"We found out that he hasn't been working at the Gulu hospital," Maggie added, "and…"

"Yeah, no shit."

"You knew," Sean spouted, "and you didn't tell us?"

"You never asked _me_."

Tempers flared as Maggie, Sean and Norman all blew up at Bob and each other.

"Hold it," Othiamba stepped in the midst of the shouting crowd and held his hands up. "Stop it. Let Bob speak."

"Okay, one person talks. Just one. Sean, half the time I can't understand your Irish dribble, and Norman, frankly when you open your mouth you make me want to mop the floor with my own piss and shit. So that leaves you, Maggie."

"We've come to the conclusion that Colleen has been stealing drugs and supplies and trading them with rebels for photo opportunities."

"That's a mighty big accusation, little girl."

"We found evidence. She set Carter up to get ambushed, only he and Luka traded places at the last minute. The rebels took the supplies and the rest of what happened that day goes completely against what we know to be the M-O of these guys."

"You talk like a cop," Bob mumbled under his breath.

"Yeah, well, family tradition. Listen, she got all of us believing that Carter was using. She set those drugs out in the perimeter for that Congolese rebel. Everything points to her. Then yesterday she slipped up and told Norman that she was going to do a story on that one armed rebel, the one Carter and Luka have that not so rosey history with."

It all started to make sense to Bob. "So Luka went off to save his damsel in distress and Boy Wonder had to save his hapless friend. Great. Just great." Sitting down in a chair, he bent over, leaning his elbows on his knees. "What the hell is Reilly up to?"

"I think I know where they're going." Sean felt uneasy about his prediction. "I think all roads are leading to this Jules character. If we can find him, I bet we find Colleen. Luka and Carter can't be far behind."

Bob put his hands through his hair as he remained in his seat staring at the floor. "Jules Akonda-Bouche. Easier said than done."

The room took on an uneasy feeling as Bob rose and walked over to the screen door and leaned against the frame staring out into the camp, uncharacteristically silent. His shuffling feet on the wood planked floor was all that was heard.

Maggie finally walked over to him. "Bob? You okay?" she asked very quietly.

"You absolutely _sure _about Colleen?" Bob spoke in a lowered voice while keeping his head turned away from the rest of the crowd in the room.

"Positive."

Shoving his hands back in his pockets, he turned around and resumed his leadership role. "Okay. This won't be easy, and I can't promise that we'll get to them. I'll do what I can, but I cannot involve our government in what's going on over there right now. I may have to pull back if it looks like we're getting too close to those who are affecting regime change."

"You mean you'd leave them behind?" Norman asked.

"It's the best I can do. It's the best they're going to get."

**_

* * *

The craftiest trickery are too short and ragged a cloak to cover a bad heart. - _**

Johann Kaspar Lavater 1741-1801, Swiss Theologian

* * *


	22. Chapter 22 Troublesome Transition

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
by Sharon R.**

**_Chapter Twenty-Two_**

Luka's arms shook as he held the pistol pointed downward in front of him with both hands. One at a time, he carefully took a hand away and wiped the sweat from his palm onto his pants. He clicked off the safety and moved his right index finger closer to the trigger assembly hoping that he could pull the trigger if he had to. His movements were slow and methodical. He couldn't have been more one with the tree than he was as he pushed his spine against the bark and tucked his elbows into his large frame while raising the gun and readying it in front of his chest. As Luka exhaled through his nose he could feel the sweat that had been re-accumulating in his palms cool from his rapid and shaky respirations.

**_

* * *

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. _**Psalm 23:4 Bible

* * *

He could feel the trigger just barely touch the pad of his finger as a small animal scurried past him. With the adrenalin rush waning, he let out a big sigh and leaned his head forward against his hands still clutching the gun. He felt his entire body vibrate starting with his feet and moving up to his head as the fear finally escaped from its imprisonment. _A little animal_, he chuckled inside. Enabling the safety once again, he let his left arm fall to his side weighted by the gun still tightly gripped by his cramping hand, then reached for the last of his bottled water with his right. It was only then that he felt the dark presence of another person, and a pair of hands wrap around his arm.

It felt as though his arm was on a chopping block, pounded over and over until the pain evolved into a numb tingling sensation that shot from his fingers up to his collarbone and he was forced to drop the gun. Luka was down to one good arm and it did no good when his head was shoved from the back into a tree, the right side of his face taking the brunt of the blow. But he wasn't about to give in. With all of the strength he could muster, Luka spun around and lashed out at whoever it was that was using him as a punching bag. It was a big whoever. Very big. As tall as Luka was, this African man stood a good head taller and a hundred pounds heavier. His vision became blurry from the sweat and blood that dripped into his eyes and as he let his guard down to wipe away at his face, the man grabbed the back of Luka's shirt with one hand, and the hair at the back of his head with the other. Like a helpless kitten in the jaws of its mother, Luka was marched to the house, the man not missing an opportunity to flail him against the side of a tree or two on the way.

The man actually knocked at the door with the toe of his boot as though this were some five star hotel.

"Yes, yes. Come in."

The GPS was right. Luka knew the voice all too well. The door was opened from the inside and Luka was pushed inside still attached to his assailant.

"Yes, Dogo, what is it?" Jules asked annoyingly as he sat at a desk shuffling through a pile of papers with his back to the door.

"Intruder," the overly large guard spoke in broken English.

As Jules turned in his chair to see who was in the doorway, Luka felt nauseas. He wanted to puke right there.

"_My, my_" Jules marveled peeking over his reading glasses, "look who we have here."

Luka considered Jules' drawn out British accent and compared it to how people of power, or assumed power, tended to color their words as such and string them together as though to savor the bitter effect they had on people. Bob did that, so did Romano - the real Romano. Even Kerry did when she was trying to convince others that she was right.

"We meet again, Dr. Kovac." Taking his glasses off and putting them on top of a book, Jules stood but didn't leave his desk and instead folded his arms and leaned against it. "We so did have a productive discourse at our last meeting, did we not? Hmm?"

His arm hung from his shoulder as dead, numb weight, his head pounded from the slams against the trees and being practically held up by the hair at the moment, and the skin on Luka's face stung as his salt laden sweat dripped into the open cuts put there courtesy of the tree bark. But he still managed to collect enough blood and phlegm in his mouth to hock in Jules' direction, unfortunately falling short. He knew it was coming but the extra body slam he earned straight into the wall of the building still stunned him.

"You'll have to excuse Dogo. He doesn't play well with others." He waited a few moments savoring the scene before him while fiddling his half baked grin with his finger. "You can put him down now, Dogo."

He didn't exactly _put _Luka down. More like threw him into the floorboards face first, then gave him a swift kick in the side for good measure. Luka curled into himself then raised himself only to his knees as his forehead remained pasted to the floor, the pain radiating throughout his body.

"Oh, well… he's new, and frankly not too bright." Jules squatted down next to Luka, trying to make eye contact with him. "They always take a while to break in. I had to replace my trusted assistant. You see, he was murdered - shot straight through the heart, if you can believe that. Just a defenseless handicapped man. Now who would do such a thing?"

Luka seethed with disgust, refusing to look at Jules, refusing to give his intimidating words any validity. He tried to avert his eyes and not stare, but with Jules it was like a bad train wreck. He couldn't help but look - look into the eyes of pure evil, because surely there would be no other chance to witness it.

"Too bad you arrived so late in the day. I was just getting ready to retire for the evening. But, seeing as though you are my guest, I will personally take it upon myself to protect you from, oh," Jules waved his hand around in front of him, "whatever is out there in the _dark scary jungle _that could harm you."

Jules stood and spoke quietly to Dogo, a small laugh occasionally escaping his vile mouth. "Not to worry my good doctor, Dogo here will make sure you are safe tonight and for added protection I will post another guard outside to keep the boogey man away."

Luka could hear Jules laugh as he shut the door behind him and talked with others on the outside. The aroma of cigars unfurled through the open window and he thought he even heard a woman's voice. It was only then that he uncurled his body and flattened his back out on the floor, knees up, as he sorted out his aches and pains. Finally getting the nerve to approach the desk, Luka barely got a chance to see what was on the papers before Dogo appeared once again and grabbed the back of his neck, forcing him into a smaller room to the side with only one undersized window covered with patched up screening. The door locked from the outside and Luka was left on his own. No furniture, no matting, nothing.

He propped himself up in the corner angled so he could see the window, the only bit of light coming from the full moon. He was strangely lonely and remembered back to the last time he was being held by Jules, only he had Carter to talk with. They'd learned so much about each other, and now they couldn't be further apart in mind, as well as geography.

Luka stood when he heard the door click open, but was surprised to see a woman in front of him, with a tray of food and drink. She put it on the floor in the middle of the room along with an empty pot Luka assumed was to be used in lieu of a bathroom.

"Speak English?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Do you work for Jules?"

She shyly shook her head.

"Are you his wife?"

Again she shook her head, looking down.

Luka pointed to her large belly. "Is that his baby?"

"I am not to talk to you," she said as she turned to leave.

"Wait." But Luka was too late, the door once again locked.

He didn't want to, but he ate the food. He was starving and figured he wouldn't be any good to Colleen if he was malnourished. Settling back into his corner he drifted off to sleep woken only a couple of hours later by the screeching of Colobus Monkeys as they took advantage of the full moon and shopped for mates high in the trees. Just when he adjusted his head to that racket and closed his eyes again, he was jostled awake by the sound of guns being fired and men laughing. Looking out of the window he saw Dogo pointing his gun high into the trees aiming for the monkeys and remembered the Ugandan Vice President telling him of the illegal fur trade that is dwindling the Colobus Monkey population, along with the clearing of land. Through the night he was continually woken either by the guns or Dogo coming in to kick his foot and make sure he wasn't too comfortable.

**WEDNESDAY**

Morning light sliced through the boards of the house and into Luka's eyes just as the same woman from the night before came in with another tray of food and water.

"What is your name?" he asked, but she remained silent. "Have you seen a woman around here? A red headed white woman?" Again, no answer and no reaction. "Is Jules keeping you here against your will?"

"She is here of her own free will," Jules voice thundered subtly from behind her, "is that not right, dear?"

The woman cowered her head as Jules put his arm on her shoulder, but nodded anyway. But for the first time she raised her eyes and looked into Luka's almost as if to give him the answer he was looking for. Jules whispered in her ear and again she was gone.

"Please don't let me keep you from your breakfast. There's nothing like good room service."

But Luka just couldn't eat in front of the man, and instead pushed the tray away.

"That's rather rude of you, is it not?"

"Do you know the whereabouts of a female American photographer?"

"He speaks!" Jules turned around with his hands in the air as if speaking to an audience. "I have many an occasion to entertain the media."

"Like you have entertained me?"

"Oh, Dr. Kovac… Luka, you are but a different creature, eh? In fact I consider you to be a close personal friend. After all, we know so much about each other."

"Obviously I know little about you." Luka pointed to the door. "Is that woman receiving proper medical care?"

"That woman is _my _woman and she is carrying my heir. Of course she gets everything she needs. Now, I must go. I have business to attend to."

"Where is Colleen Reilly?"

"We will have time later on to enjoy each other's company. I have things to do this evening. Perhaps we can have a private late dinner here tonight." He acted as though they were long lost friends. "Just you and me."

"You sent your one armed man to our camp in Uganda. Did you have something to do with the ambush too, where a young kid was shot in the back?"

"Mmm, that _was _unfortunate. I read about it in the paper. So young."

Again, Jules started to leave but was halted at the door by Luka. "Have you spoken to her? Hmm? What have you done with her?"

"You are filled with emotion, Luka, no?"

"Something you are incapable of."

"Well, you cannot substitute emotion for reason. Emotion does not win war. And this **is** war." Jules' shoulders relaxed as he turned around and played into Luka's fears. "Loyalty is a funny thing. Sometimes what appears to be loyalty is actually deception. You really ought to choose who you lay with very carefully." Luka lunged at the man, but was too late, barreling into the closed door instead.

Commotion outside the house kept Luka from resting. He could hear people coming and going, even Jules' horrid voice. But he stayed to his corner hoping to hear just one voice. Only one in particular.

Well into the afternoon he started to hear drums and singing in the distance. Vehicles traveled the road and the action directly around the house waned. A different person entered the room with water this time. Not Dogo and not the pregnant woman. The two looked eye to eye before they acknowledged each other.

"Mbuto?" the man asked remembering they shared no common language except his elementary French and very broken English.

"Oui."

"En l'école?"

"Oui. Yes, in school."

"En les États Unis?"

"Non. Afrique."

"Football?"

Luka laughed. "Oui. Football. Bien. _Tres _bien." The boy excelled in the sport.

Mbuto's father sighed and smiled. Something Luka had never seen. He also knew he'd exhausted about all of the French the man knew.

"I need help," Luka pleaded. "What is that?" he asked pointing in the direction of the drums and voices.

"Ah, celebration. Mmmm, big - for Jules. Many people."

"Who is here? You, me…?" Luka used his hand to indicate the rest of the area.

"Dogo. Jules' woman."

"Please," Luka pleaded, "help me. Help me find _my _woman."

At first the man stood motionless, contemplating what Luka was asking of him. It was almost an occupational habit as Luka took note of the man's increased respiration and sweating, the dark eyes searching the small room as he struggled with himself. Eventually he nodded.

"Yes?" Luka asked. "Yes, you'll help me escape?"

"Tonight," is all he said before quickly leaving and locking the door behind him.

There certainly was a celebration. Luka could hear the festive singing and chanting just above the dark and eerie drums beating away. As darkness fell he wondered if he'd been forgotten. Nobody had been to see him in several hours and he could see no one from his small portal. Finally the door opened and Mbuto's father came in pointing to the door with his gun.

"You go now. _Now_."

"Dogo?" Luka asked knowing that man didn't even need a weapon to over take him. The man shook his head. "He's not here?"

The man didn't answer, but simply raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. Luka didn't need to know any more. He got to his feet but stopped short of leaving, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out that which he had carried with him for so long.

"This is from Mbuto."

The man took the play coin from Luka's hand and turned it over, recognizing the little gift he had given his son.

"I… you…" Luka couldn't quite put it into words that the man could understand. "It's a good deed. And… thank you."

The man simply closed his hand around the coin and smiled again, nodding at Luka. In return, the man pulled the pistol Luka came with from inside his coat and handed it to him. There was a communication there that transcended culture and language.

Outside the house, Luka nearly ran into the woman. She looked at him stunned as Luka lifted up his shirt and tucked the gun into his waistband, concealing it behind the black fabric.

"Do you trust this man?" Luka asked her, pointing to Mbuto's father, but she didn't answer. "More than Jules?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to get you to safety, but you need to trust me too. Okay?"

She was young and strikingly beautiful. Her face which had been so sad, now had hope as she nodded. "Yes. Okay."

The three of them, Luka, the woman and Mbuto's father walked up the road to the celebration, out in the open, nobody to stop them. Just before they came upon the large bonfire, Luka motioned for Mbuto's father to wait in the trees off to the side. Holding onto the woman with his one good arm, Luka brazenly blended into the crowd mixed with a large variety of cultures and colors. There were military and government representatives, traditional African dress, men, women and children, all sitting and standing around this large bon fire. A group was dancing to the rhythm of the drums and singing of voices while the crowd cheered along all smiling. Luka stood with the woman, solitary in their lack of festivity.

As the dancers parted, Luka saw that he was directly opposite his opponent. The orange and yellow flickers of the flames danced around Jules' and without even being directed to look his way, Jules' attention went immediately to Luka… and the woman he grasped by the upper arm, as though he could sense the doctor's presence. Luka stood tall and didn't avert his eyes, didn't even try. He had the upper hand, or so he wanted Jules to think.

Jules' initial blank look didn't last long as he sported a sick smile and motioned to his side where a white woman toting cameras approached. Turning his head to whisper in her ear, he never took his eyes off Luka. Eventually Colleen turned to look in Luka's direction as well. She too smiled, only it wasn't a smile Luka had ever seen before. Ever. The two whispered back and forth until finally Colleen walked around the circle towards Luka. He noticed there were no other photographers. None. _The media was by invitation only_, the Australians had told him. _Whoever scored this shoot was one lucky bastard._

"Luka. What are you doing here?" Her eyes were different, he thought.

"Get your things. We're leaving."

"No, I don't think you understand," she patronizingly told him. "I'm working."

"How did you get here?"

"How did _you _get here?"

"Do you know who this man is?"

"Never seen him before. Just another political figure. Now go home, Luka."

With that she leaned into him to kiss him on the cheek. Her soft red curls brushed against his lips and that's when he smelled it. Jules' cologne and a faint smell of cigar.

"Tell Jules I look forward to our private dinner tonight. Soon." Luka's voice was no longer spirited with hope. "And tell him it must be private."

Colleen carried Luka's message back to Jules who listened intently, then smiled before gently stroking Colleen's hair.

He could feel the heat of the bonfire as they walked back down the road they had just come up. In a dip in the road, he stopped abruptly as Carter walked up on him.

"Carter. You need to get out of here." He couldn't believe that Carter had come so far and in such dangerous conditions just to confront him again.

"I came to get you." Carter looked tired, but in better condition than Luka. "Come on, there's still time and I have a contact - a good one - that can get us out of here safely." Always the messenger of hope. "Luka, we have to go _now_."

"No. You do."

Carter was going to mess up the only chance he had for Colleen to get away safely. "Luka, we found these in Colleen's bag."

Luka looked down and saw photographs of Colleen standing with Jules, the picture from the front page of the paper. She was standing with Jules and the pregnant woman. She said she didn't know him, but there she was in a picture taken not too long ago. And the paper, what did Carter say? She was dirty? She set Carter up on the ambush? That _was _her handwriting.

"No."

"Luka, look at me. I just came from a rebel field hospital where I found these." Carter took the two marked vials from his pocket and showed them to Luka who looked intently at them. Those were his marks. They got to the field hospital somehow. "She is buying her way to Jules through us, all for pictures."

The theory was plausible, Luka knew it. But… but… "Get out, Carter. Go home." He was in the way. _In the way_. Then Carter had the audacity to ask if Luka was part of a conspiracy. He didn't have an answer to that, because if it was true, if Colleen really was… well then, he certainly was guilty by association.

"You've seen him, haven't you?" Carter asked incredulously. "You've been talking to Jules."

Guilty by association. And now he was about to parley with the devil. "Go back down that road, Carter. There are vehicles going in and out of the area. Get a ride."

Luka didn't hear Carter calling after him as he walked into the trees and met up with Mbuto's father. "Take her to Mbuto," he told him while looking at the woman, knowing she'd translate. "Pakwach, Uganda. Ask for the PCRC. Ask for Bob. No guns, no machetes. You are refugees from Congo. Go."

He was exhausted and squatted down against the tree as he tried to compose himself. The feeling was beginning to return to his left arm, he must have pinched a nerve. But with that came lots of pain in his collarbone and elbow. He tried resting his hand naturally in his pocket, but the pain was too much, so he let it continue to hang like useless dead weight. Walking through the woods, he made his way back to the house hoping to keep out of sight.

The warm night air kissed Luka in the back of his neck as he emerged from the woods into the dark open field. The dark shadows contrasted with the spotlights of illumination aimed by the full moon. There was a vehicle at the house now and as he walked along the tree line out of sight, he heard the familiar voices of Carter and Jules.

"Let Kovac go."

That was Carter, pleading with Jules?

"He's a free man. He can come and go as he pleases." A sprinkling of color lit up the sky as the sound of exploding fireworks combined with the drums and far off voices. "I do so love a good display. Don't you?"

Luka looked up at the fireworks worried that they would brighten the area too much. He heard Colleen's name mentioned. And moved forward again, to hear better.

"She tried to have me killed." He could see Carter's face now as he sneaked up behind Jules.

"It's not that she tried to kill you," Jules said in his profoundly self satisfying droll, "but that you were… let's say… _expendable_."

He knew, Luka thought. He knew. Which meant that Colleen _was _involved? Just behind Carter, Luka saw Colleen come from behind the vehicle. She was walking up behind Carter just as mysteriously as Luka had appeared behind Jules.

Jules most assuredly could see Colleen, and with the look on Carter's face, he could see Luka. What Jules and Luka were seeing was Colleen raising her revolver, unbeknownst to Carter.

"You and your friend are quite gullible subjects, do you know that?" the demented dictator spewed. "No, I don't suppose you do."

Luka exchanged looks with Carter hoping he would stand still, not move. With his right hand he reached under his shirt and pulled out the pistol, carefully disarming the safety.

"Isn't the human mind remarkable?" Jules spewed. "It is so pliable, and like a flimsy piece of rubber, it can be pulled and twisted into any number of shapes. But in the end, the owner of that mind won't do anything that he - or she - truly does not want to do… or so I'm told."

Had he played with Colleen's mind? Had he twisted and reshaped it? He suddenly couldn't hear much of what Carter and Jules were saying anymore as he focused solely on Colleen. She raised her gun and pointed it in his direction. _Is she aiming at Jules or me_, Luka wondered.

"Sometimes one must eliminate those… _things_… that clutter the soul."

Without much movement, Colleen slowly turned so that the gun was pointed at the back of Carter's head. Luka's anger showed through his eyes as he looked coldly at her sly smile. She cocked the gun.

_**Click. **_

_Once you cock it, you're committed to shooting. That's what she had said. Once you cock it…_

Luka raised his own gun and aimed it squarely at Colleen. He didn't want to do this. He didn't. But he knew enough about Colleen to know that she would follow through.

"You see, my friend, I can make anyone do just about anything for me," Jules lingered aloud.

He could tell that Colleen had made eye contact with Jules. She nodded her head as she displayed a half smile similar to the one Jules carried around with him. But before she could act, Luka pulled his trigger, the bullet hitting her dead center as a bouquet of reds, blues and greens rained down on them from above.

All four stood as Colleen looked down at her blood soaked chest, then slumped to the ground. Carter was just as stunned to see Colleen behind him as Jules was to see Luka. But like a deer in headlights, Carter and Jules stood their ground staring at Colleen, and Luka remained in position, his gun still pointed at where Colleen had stood. And none registered the rustling in the trees as several figures poured from the jungle in the distance.

Luka finally released the gun from his grip and ran to Colleen's side. Her eyes were open, the color draining from her face and lips. As her eyes looked up at Luka, a huge gush of dark red blood spilled from her mouth and combined with that which had soaked through Luka's pants as he held her on top of his lap. He could see death meet her eyes even before her last few agonal attempts to breath went unanswered.

Carter and Jules both lunged for Luka's gun as soon as it hit the ground. Carter was closer, but Jules had a better right hook giving Carter's head and face a few blows. It didn't keep his long arm from reaching out and finally grasping the gun, the barrel still warm from Luka's shot. Carter suddenly had energy and courage he never knew existed as he rolled the larger Jules onto his back and straddled his chest, shoving the end of the gun straight into the evil man's mouth.

Carter was shaking as he held the gun still, his finger on the delicate trigger. Looking down into Jules' eyes he marveled at how the blood from his fractured nose dripped onto the man's face one drop at a time until it had pooled and run like a river off his cheek. His anger boiled over, months of secret torment reaching a crescendo as he spoke barely above a whisper, though loud enough, and slow enough for Jules to understand:

"_Life - is pleasant. **Death **- is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome_."

The two were oblivious to the large group of newcomers that had entered the scene and the several red beams of laser light pointed at Carter's chest, back, and head.


	23. Final Chapter Fear and Dreams Collide

**POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS  
**_by Sharon R._

Final Chapter

Carter's saliva escaped from under his tongue and strung down onto Jules' face thinning out the pool of blood, also a gift from Carter, that had been collecting on the orbit just under his eye. He sat on Jules' chest, knees pinning the shoulders down, steel gun barrel occasionally chattering against the rebel leader's teeth. Carter kept it propped between Jules' jaws half way to the gag reflex. He knew not to shove it in too far lest the man gag and move, ruining the moment before he pulled the trigger. Not too far from center. He wanted a nice, clean shot down and back through the brain stem. The only thing Carter could hear was his own ragged, labored breathing as he panted and gasped through his open mouth, nothing but pure rage emanating from his face.

"Sir?"

He just wanted one last look at the scum.

"Sir?"

He was watching the eyes. Watching Jules blink.

"Sir, please."

Carter wanted Jules' eyes open and looking at him when he blew his brains out. He had to time it right. Just right, so he could enjoy it.

"Put the gun down, sir."

It was a young, clear American voice just off to his side. He heard the man's calm, direct words, but he couldn't move. Did he even want to?

"Sir, look down at your chest."

Carter didn't look until he saw Jules attempt a smile. As he broke his focus, Carter saw not only the red pinpoints of light dotting his chest, but strings of them coming from a variety of distances, all ending on him.

"Sir, take your finger off the trigger." He was on one knee now right next to Carter, slowly and gently guiding the gun out of Jules' mouth, up and away out of Carter's hand. But the two remained in place - Carter on top of Jules staring down into his face, Jules now reveling in his rescue.

"I thank you for coming to liberate me," Jules announced from his position on the ground. He let out a grating, evil laugh to accompany his cheesy grin. "These men here were about to _kill _me," he astonishingly mocked.

That was the point at which Carter snapped and let his fist go in a fury, pummeling the man's face. He didn't count how many swings he got in before he was forcefully dragged from atop Jules and pinned face down on the ground himself by two of the men in black.

Her warm blood came from the small wound in her chest and the larger exit wound in the center of her upper back, soaking through Luka's right pant leg. In his head he visualized the damage the bullet had done: arteries, lungs, spine, heart.

"Luka."

His eyes were as cold as Colleen's body as he sat frozen, propping up the dead woman's upper body, her long red curls cascading over his arm, the tips dipping in and out of her own blood as Luka occasionally rocked her.

"Luka, put her down."

He looked up to see Bob standing over him, heavily armed.

"I didn't want to," Luka tried to tell him, "but…"

"I know. I saw from out there." Bob was uncharacteristically soft spoken, given the situation. "We got here as fast as we could."

Luka stroked Colleen's face, pulling a strand of hair from over her eyes and tenderly tucking it behind her ear.

"You need to let her go. We have to get you out of here." Bob reached down and tugged at Luka's arm, barely giving him a chance to lay Colleen's body onto the soft green African floor.

As another faceless man guided Luka to an awaiting chopper, he looked back one more time at Colleen only to see Bob on one knee next to her bowing his head, closing her eyes with one hand, the other stroking her elbow - the only part of her upper body not covered in blood.

"Thank you," Jules said with a business-like tone while standing and brushing the dirt from his clothes with his hands, "my security team can take it from here. Dogo?"

The route to the awaiting choppers was straight past Jules, and although Luka wanted nothing more to do with the man, he couldn't help but slow down and connect eyes with the man as he approached.

"My, my, Luka," Jules succinctly put out with the drone of smugness, "you _are _quite a good shot." He nodded over Luka's shoulder toward Colleen's body. "Dead on, one might say. I, my friend, am impressed."

Luka said nothing, but instead stood silently in front of Jules as the man squirmed, frantically looking around for a familiar face among the two doctors and militiamen dressed in black.

"Dogo! Ce n'est pas ce que j'ai commandé," he shouted into the night. But his summons, then orders were unanswered. He finally realized he was alone among the many mysterious armed men. A sweat broke out on Jules' brow, the droplets slowly etching down the creases of his face to linger at his chin before falling to the ground. "**_Dogo?"_**

Luka moved in close to Jules' ear. "Loyalty is a funny thing… _Jules_," he carefully, but with delightful maliciousness, delivered. "Sometimes what appears to be loyalty is actually deception."

For the first time, Jules' half cocked, conceited smile was forced - incomplete - and just faintly quivering with fear. Luka relished this small victory as he headed to the landing zone.

"I'm okay," Carter yelled from under the men who had restrained him to the ground. "**_I'm okay,_**" he grunted as his arms were jerked into the small of his back.

"Let him up." Bob had walked over to Carter's corner of the scene. The very large men literally picked Carter up off the ground and placed him on his feet. "You alright?"

Carter nodded, seeing Colleen's body for the first time over Bob's shoulder.

"You sure?" Bob asked again, quietly - personally.

Carter opened his mouth to say something, anything, but his eyes fixed on Colleen's body stifled his ability to speak.

"Okay," Bob yelled over the roar of the choppers firing their engines, "get them out of here."

Carter was whisked away, held on both sides by two of the men, to the chopper sitting beside at least two other dark, mysterious crafts in the middle of the field, and put inside just after Luka. There were no lights on the outside of the chopper, and few if any inside. Once they were in the air, the only time Carter could see anything was when the full moon penetrated the dark tinted windows. The men were armed with large automatic weapons, dressed head to toe in black, wore night vision goggles and a communication system attached to the tight weave of material covering the rest of the face. And they didn't talk much. Just an occasional coded blurb.

"Four fox, two pups, 5-8 from LZ, 22-17."

The chopper, certainly not the large clunky Russian MI-8 they'd flown in Uganda, was eerily quiet, very smooth in the ride and flew low - too low for Carter's comfort.

"We're real close to the trees," Carter said nervously, sucking in his breath as the tree tops looked to reach out at him. Wearing his white t-shirt and khaki pants, he was the only one who stood out.

"We are flying below radar, sir," the deep, unaffected voice answered.

"Aren't you afraid we'll crash?"

"We haven't yet, sir."

"Do you _have _to call me sir?"

"No sir."

Luka sat opposite Carter, but kept to himself. He couldn't help but replay the night's events over and over in his head. Jules whispering to Colleen, her smile, the proof, her gun.

C_lick - bang_.

Just like the dream, only Colleen was doing Jules' dirty work. There was nothing for him to look at inside the chopper, everything dark - black. He knew that although he couldn't see the faces of Bob's men, they could see his quite well. He wondered if they knew… knew what he'd done.

After a couple of hours the choppers slowed and hovered. Carter looked out the darkened window but saw nothing below until a huge array of flood lights was turned on illuminating a large house surrounded by man made berms, cement barriers and barbed wire. It was like a fortress. The last time Carter descended in a helicopter he landed upside down. This landing couldn't have been smoother and, again, nearly without sound compared to any of the aircraft he had ever been in.

The chopper took off again almost as soon as they had exited, and once they had been escorted into the building, the flood lights were doused. Two of the men remained behind, showing them into a large office area on the basement level. It had been a long time since they'd been among modern furnishings, and this room had two leather sofas, a desk, long conference table with several chairs and books. Lots of books on Africa and the Middle East. A large, unusual looking file cabinet took up one whole wall. It had extremely short but wide drawers, all locked - a few topographical maps of Congo lay on top having been left there by someone in a hurry. There was a bathroom off to the side that they could get into, but all other doors were locked by key and the windows were only small, narrow openings at the top of each outside wall. There was no going in or out. They each laid claim to a sofa and proceeded to sink into themselves for the night without saying one word to each other.

It's not like either one was a prize winning sleeper, but that night in particular neither one put in more than an hour's worth of slumber at a time. They tended to alternate. When one slept, the other tossed and turned eventually getting up and pacing around the room, finally settling back into the dark brown leather at about the same time the other startled awake from whatever nightmarish hell he was going through. And thus went the night.

Sometime around dawn, Carter awoke to find Luka sitting at the head of the table staring into his reflection off the high glossed finish.

"Look, Luka…"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Carter ignored him. "I know what you found out about her was devastating, but… but… you didn't…"

"Didn't have to kill her?" He finally raised his head and looked at Carter. "She had a gun to your head. So yes, I had to kill her."

Carter swallowed hard. He hadn't known. Didn't even think about what was going on between Jules and Colleen. "I'm, ah, I'm sorry," he stuttered.

An African house servant delivered breakfast to the both of them and they ate at opposite ends of that long table, again both lost in thought. Both were hurting physically as their injuries were swelling. Carter's jaw was stiff, a couple teeth loose. His nose was blocked with dried blood making it hard to breath and his right hand was sporting a broken bone or two, but at least he could still use it to some extent. Luka had most of the feeling back in his arm, but he knew he'd broken his collarbone and hyper extended his elbow. The right side of his face sported several abrasions, now beginning to be hidden by his beard growth. The door opened again and Carter picked up both trays to give back to the servant only to be met by another one of Bob's mysterious men, only he wasn't wearing the customary black ski-type mask.

"Othiamba?" Carter asked as the man shut the door behind him, not sure if it was him or not.

"I have some clothes here for you. Maggie and Sean got some of your things for me to bring back to you, and this bag of medical supplies."

"So you work for Bob?" Luka asked.

"Yes."

"How long?"

"Two years. First as an agent while I was in the army attached to the President's detail, then when the camp opened I, um, … well…"

"Were you there last night?" Carter wanted to know.

Othiamba nodded. "Bob is hoping to get back later tonight. He wants you to know that you cannot leave here, for your own safety, but you may use the living quarters upstairs."

With the door held open by Othiamba, the doctors made their way upstairs into a beautifully decorated home sprinkled with artifacts and artwork, modern contemporary furniture and servants.

"I have to go now," Othiamba said from behind them, "but I just wanted to let you know that I truly enjoyed working for you at the camp. Even though I was an agent, I was first a PCRC camp worker."

Luka reached in his pocket and pulled out a photograph, its edges battered. "I'd appreciate it if you would get this to Toomay. I don't know what's going to happen… and I want her to have it."

Looking over Luka's shoulder, Carter caught a glimpse of the picture. "That's Joseph, Toomay - the family. Where did you get that?"

"The house."

"Ikela?" Carter raised his eyebrows as he realized the extent of Luka's journey. "You went back?"

Luka didn't answer Carter - didn't have to - as he handed the photo over to Othiamba.

After shaking their hands, Othiamba left the doctors in the care of an older woman who clucked with her tongue at their appearance, and a teenage boy also in a white uniform insistent that they take off their shoes.

She shooed Luka into the shower first, probably unable to stand looking at the dried blood that had embodied most of one pant leg. He was startled at his appearance as well when he looked in the mirror, vanity lights on either side not letting him miss a thing. So he stood there and looked at the man who just killed the woman he thought he had fallen in love with.

_(A few lines of Song Lyric Let Me Fall previously properly attributed, deleted 5/3/05 as per new regulation by site adminstration. PC2 can be read in its original text at LUKAFIC.)_

Carter wandered around the living area admiring the artwork, totally seeing Bob fitting in. He even had framed family pictures lining the mantle of an enormous rarely used fireplace, and throughout the house on the walls were larger framed pictures of him and probably people he had worked with, including Presidents Carter, Reagan, GH Bush, GW Bush and Clinton.

"Dr. Luka is still in there," the woman came in to tell him. "He not even turn the water on yet."

Carter knocked on the door and let himself into the bathroom when Luka failed to answer. He was sitting on the closed toilet almost in a daze.

"Luka?"

"I can't get undressed with one arm," he said with a nervous little chuckle. "Isn't that funny?"

"It's okay. I'll help you. I kind of owe you one." Carter found a pair of scissors in a drawer and cut Luka's black t-shirt away, careful to avoid his bruised collarbone, but unable to avoid examining the fracture site. "I think it's a clean break. I don't feel any edges."

Luka nodded in agreement and stood to let Carter get the pants off his hips, then sat down in his boxers, his eyes vacant and heavy. "How could I have been so blind?"

"You weren't blind. You saw what she gave you and what you wanted to see." Carter finally pulled the pants off Luka's legs, Colleen's blood having soaked through and dried to his skin. "She betrayed you, took advantage of your heart." Carter stood and leaned back against the sink waiting for Luka to say something, anything. But he just sat in silence. "You got it from here?" Luka nodded and Carter left him to his shower.

When Luka was finished, he opted to stay unshaven, but let Carter help him on with his clean clothes. It felt good to be clean, but somehow it didn't make things better.

Carter lingered in his shower until the hot water ran out. He didn't care. He'd been taking cold showers in a ramshackle, broken down outdoor stall for months, and even that was on a rigid schedule. He was just exhausted and sore… and worried about Luka.

_(Lyrics deleted)_

They spent yet another day of not talking to each other. They walked around inside the house, pretended to read books, look at maps and crack a smile at the help who tried too hard to feed them and ask if they wanted anything. Carter found himself knocking on the large glass sliding doors looking out onto the Ugandan plains surrounding the house - actually the plains surrounding the cement, and wire around the house. Bullet proof, he guessed. Definitely not Home Depot run of the mill stuff. Occasionally one of the men, armed with weapons equal in weight to their own body, appeared walking the perimeter, and when Luka opened the large ornate front door, two of them greeted him with their gun barrels. The door was closed for him.

Finally, long after dinner, Carter tried to strike up conversation.

"I think Bob actually has family and maybe even friends." He pointed to the mantle where Luka had just walked by, but never actually stopped to study the photographs. "Of course I'm not sure camels would qualify as friends. But maybe they do to Bob."

Luka humored Carter and went over to the fireplace, pretending to look. He picked up the older unframed photo of a much younger Bob standing in the middle a desert with what appeared to be a middle eastern tribesman on a camel. He was about to show it to Carter when he noticed what was in the framed picture that it had been propped up against. Dropping the picture of Bob, Luka took the frame and walked over to the sofa, pulling a picture of his own out of his pocket.

"What is it?" Carter asked looking over his shoulder.

Luka put the picture of Amanda next to the framed, posed picture of a family

"Who's that?" Carter asked, focusing on Luka's picture.

"Colleen's daughter."

"And that…" Carter's voice trailed off as he recognized Bob holding a red headed little girl, his arm around Colleen. Only this wasn't in Iraq or Afghanistan. More like Wal-Mart picture studio.

"Good evening gentlemen," Bob bellowed as he walked into the study area, tossing a folded newspaper on his desk. Without stopping he made his way to the bar, pouring himself a scotch, straight up. It wasn't until he'd poured himself a second that he joined the doctors on the other side of the room. He sat opposite them in a large leather chair, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He knew what they were looking at - what they had figured out. "I didn't know. I didn't think she had it in her."

"Amanda?" Luka asked standing to put the picture back where he found it.

Bob leaned back, downed the rest of his drink and lit a cigarette. "You know that what we talk about here, stays here." Carter and Luka nodded. "I met Colleen Reilly in the Middle East in '92 when she was stringing for Reuters. She was young - very young, very beautiful and dangerously head strong. After spending so long in countries where women were covered up and beaten into submission, she turned me on." He smiled and looked up at the mantle as he shared his memories. "But it was a volatile relationship. We were both too headstrong, and both unwilling to admit fault. She got pregnant, we got married at the American Embassy in Jordan, and things just fell apart from there."

"So the story you told us about the CIA shipping you back and trying to railroad you wasn't true?" Carter asked.

"Oh, it happened. But about the same time this was going on, I had infiltrated a terrorist network and someone blew my cover. Over a hundred people were arrested in their home countries as a result of my work, and many were executed. It was big, _very big _and my life was - **is **- in danger." He took a long, hard drag on the cigarette, then slowly rotated it in circles as he tapped the ashes into the oversized ashtray on the marble topped end table next to him. "These people are ruthless and follow their victims all over the world, taking out the lives of the loved ones first before actually killing their original target." It was almost as though Bob had never told anyone the details before.

"Our divorce was nearly complete, Colleen couldn't deal with Amanda. She could clothe her, change her diaper, do routine maintenance like clockwork and maybe even love her in her own way. But she couldn't _care _for her. She was too wrapped up in her career. Proving herself as a photographer garnered her the attention she craved. She said being a mother was suffocating." Bob rolled his eyes and smirked as he stamped out his cigarette and lit another one.

"Staying with me was out of the question. I asked for this transfer as Lead Regional DO officer." The fact that he had confused the men was obvious. "Directorate of Operations. Anyway, being here in this compound, any CIA compound, kept me safe, and those people who have it out for me have natural enemies here, so this is where I make my home. But it's not safe enough for a little girl. My step-mother is raising her."

"You don't see her?" Luka asked.

"A couple times a year the agency finds us a remote location to spend a couple days together, but no longer than that. These people have about a three day time frame that they can track me down once I leave this region."

"So all this time…" Luka trailed off. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't risk having anybody connect that little girl to me in any way, and Reilly knew that too. The one thing we have in common… had in common is our love for that little girl."

"I'm sorry." Luka realized that Bob had witnessed the killing of his ex-wife, mother of his child, at **his **hands. A man sworn to _first, do no harm_.

"Don't beat yourself up over this, Luka. It will be a while before we know everything, but I think it was only a matter of time before… well, yeah." Bob went back to CIA mode. "Akonda-Bouche does these things in secret, travels around daily. We had a short amount of time to gather a lot of intelligence. I have to say, you guys got there with impressive speed.

"How did you get there before the choppers?" Luka asked.

"We repelled from them about four clicks south of the ridge where nobody would see us, then hoofed it the rest of the way. Brought the choppers in after we spotted you. Still too late."

"Have you been to the camp?" Luka asked.

Bob nodded. "Yes, all is well there. I've told Maggie and Sean _some vague _things. The rest know that you are safe and temporarily attached to a UN medical mission helping out at a disaster site. "

"And Norman?" Carter asked, not sure he really wanted to know.

"I believe the word he used was _perturbed_."

"Mm hmm. I bet." Carter helped himself to a can of pop behind the bar.

"Mbuto?" Luka asked hoping that Bob knew.

"His father showed up at camp just a bit ago, with a woman. Mbuto spent some time with him, but ultimately the guy went back. Refugee life is just not what the man is. The boy is okay with it - happy with Toomay."

Carter sat on the sofa next to Luka who gave him the 'I'll tell you later' look.

"Now what?" Carter asked.

"Well," Bob made his way to the bar for a third deserved trip, "now I get on a plane and meet my daughter at a safe house in Amsterdam and tell her about her mother." He offered drinks to the doctors, only Luka accepted matching Bob's speed in which he ingested it. "I don't know about you two yet."

Luka refilled his glass, glad that he wasn't drinking alone. "Will we face charges?'

"You won't have to worry about that." With great reluctance, Bob picked up the newspaper he had tossed on his desk and looked at the headlines, before giving it to Carter who started to read aloud.

"A small revolution has stirred up the pot in northern Congo as President Joseph Kabila's only threat to power, Jules Akonda-Bouche was overthrown and murdered… _murdered _last night by those within his tight inner circle." Carter looked up from the paper, shocked at what he had just read. "I didn't kill him. _I didn't **kill him**_."

Luka took the paper from a stunned Carter and continued reading. "Local authorities were contacted by personal security forces for visiting dignitaries who came upon the gruesome scene just outside of Dakamba in the Mbandaka Region. It appears as though Akonda-Bouche and a personal security guard were lured back to a remote house where they were killed. Among the dead is American prize winning photo journalist C.J. Reilly who either stumbled upon the revolt or, as locals suspect, was killed by Akonda-Bouche himself who had a dark reputation regarding his dealings with women and foreigners."

Carter's mouth hung open as he struggled to reorganize the picture in his head he had left with the previous evening. "I didn't…"

"No, you didn't," Bob reassured him. "This is where it becomes a 'need to know' basis. And you don't need to know what happened after you left. All I can tell you is that Amanda will grow up with the knowledge that her mother was everything she thought she was. She won't have the resentment and regret that Colleen lived with." Bob put his empty glass down and walked to the door, mumbling, "some things are just better left buried."

Luka and Carter remained in the study looking closer at the items that defined Bob. The pictures took on new meaning, as did the small, purple painted clay dish on the corner of the desk.

"Carter, I'm sorry," Luka confessed as he swirled the last of the brown liquor in his glass. "If I had known, we could have gotten you some buprenorphine to block the withdrawal and craving…"

"It's something that has to be started within 24 hours of the narcotic. I doubt there's any on this continent. I'm really okay now. I worked it through." Carter was standing at the window watching as a very soft, gentle rain began to fall. "If I'd stayed back, maybe she…"

"She probably would have killed me." Luka joined him at the window wondering where the weather had come from. Since they had arrived back in Africa, the few times it had rained it always came with a vengeance - loud, hard and vicious. This was a tender rain.

Carter leaned into the floor-to-ceiling window frame and plunged his hands into his pockets. "What are we going to do, Luka?"

"Got it." Carter leaned over the snoring patient and cut the suture material Luka held up. "I can find someone else to help out if you want to take a break."

"No, actually this is the last one on my side. You?"

"Ah, two more. I win."

"You had more. But mine were longer," Luka joked. "**I** win."

"Still trying to rationalize using size as a debate point?"

The quiet in the room was interrupted by a crash outside the door the result of a commotion laden evening. "_Damn it all_." The muffled protest protruded through the walls, but the doctors were unfazed.

"Because you know, Luka, it's not really about size."

"Ha, ha. _Now _I'm done." Luka finished dressing the wounds, then cleaned up before leaving. "Coffee?"

"As soon as I find this guy a bed."

Luka tried not to look directly into the eyes of the long line of people waiting for treatment. That way he didn't feel so bad about taking a short break. Days like this were nuts, but at least they kept him busy enough to take his mind off of things. The coffee was bad - again. He left enough in the pot for Carter, but tossed his down the drain.

The large window sill was beckoning to him with the natural light from outdoors glowing around the edges and the sound of children chattering and laughing beneath as they walked by. Luka sat atop the window ledge and leaned back against the frame looking out at the life before him, then put the palm of his hand flush against the glass to feel the cold from outside. She had missed the snow...

_(A few lines of Song Lyric for Don't Miss You at All, sung by Norah Jones, previously properly attributed, deleted 5/3/05 as per new regulation by site adminstration. PC2 can be read in its original text at LUKAFIC.)_

"Mind if I finish the pot?" Carter asked. "This is great." Carter nearly emptied the pot into his mug and joined Luka over at the window, propping himself against the wall, rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes.

_(Lyrics deleted)_

"You look tired, Carter."

"What else is new?"

"Bad dreams?"

"Nope. Before… you know… I had horrible dreams. Very vivid, very real, every one of my senses part of it. And frankly, I got used to it. But ever since then I don't think I even dream anymore."

"Sure you do. We all do."

Carter shook his head slowly. "Well then I don't remember them. Probably just as well," he muttered into his coffee mug - unconvincingly. "How about you? Thinking about her?"

"I don't know how not to."

"Carter and Kovac, PR has been trying to get ahold of you for a couple days now."

"I know." Kovac answered. "We got the message."

Kerry poured out what little coffee was left into a mug. "Yeah, well, they need an answer. They shouldn't have to come to me. _Blech_… this sucks." Kerry screwed up her face, put the dirty mug in the sink and walked over to Carter and Luka, pink message slip in hand. "All they want is for one of you to be present at some function in Washington to accept a press award given posthumously to a…" Kerry put on her glasses to read the name on the slip, "…a Colleen J. Reilly."

Kerry waited as neither doctor had anything to say, instead exchanging looks with each other. "Well? Carter? It's for some layout she did on _your _camp."

"I have a commitment that weekend." Carter turned his attention to Luka. "I'm meeting Paulette at the Syracuse airport. The Casey's are sponsoring her student visa and paying her tuition."

"That's great." Luka had a big smile finally.

"Luka?" Kerry shoved the pink note in his direction but he didn't take it.

"He'll be covering for me, actually," Carter said taking the note and tossing it in the trash. "And now we have patients."

At the Admit desk Luka stopped to check his e-mail, while Carter caught some of the CNN news on the wall mounted TV.

_…since Jules Akonda-Bouche's assassination, the Congolese president has been relatively comfortable with his lack of opposition. But lately a new man hoping to overthrow the government has floated to the surface. One who strikes even more fear into the people than Akonda-Bouche. His name - is Emile dia Wamba, a rebel leader in his own right with a reputation going back to reports of genocide in the Darfu region of western Sudan…_

"Hey, Carter," Malik called out over the noise of the phone ringing off the hook, "you okay?"

Carter took a deep breath and collected himself, something he had become used to doing. "Yeah, no problem." He checked the board and pulled a chart heading off to a trauma room.

"Hey Carter," Luka called out, stopping him before he passed by, "I got an e-mail from Sean. Maggie is doing great. Running a tight ship at the clinic."

"I bet she is."

"Toomay and the kids are doing well, and…" he hushed his voice a bit, "…he says they miss us."

"Yeah, well…"

"Uh-oh."

"What?"

"He made us an offer."

Carter shook his head and walked away. "Not this time, my friend. Not this time. Game over. I fold."

**The End **


End file.
